


May Your Heart Know Peace

by adiwriting



Series: May You [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Endgame Malex, Flint redemption (still an insensitive asshole but there is a story arc), Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post Season 2, Therapy, malex endgame, minor Forest/Alex, relationship repair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: Alex is learning to heal from a life of trauma and finding his voice. In the process of repairing his broken soul, he manages to repair some broken relationships along the way.Otherwise known as 5 times Alex can't manage to forgive his mom and the 1 time he finally does (Eventual Malex).
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: May You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826278
Comments: 136
Kudos: 266





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a drabble. A prompt fill for "interacting with family members" that quickly became Alex confronting the very complex relationship he has with his mom. After that... the entire thing just spiraled. So while the theme of all of this really focuses on Alex's relationship with his mother, it's a much bigger story about Alex finding his voice for the first time and learning about who he is and what he cares about. It's also about Alex and that battle he must fight alone, but ultimately, fighting for Michael. 
> 
> Or, as my friend Megan would put it... this fic is just Brittney being Brittney. Starting a small fic and then deciding there's about a 1000 larger issues she wants to address and biting off more than she can chew. 
> 
> Hopefully you guys enjoy this and find Alex's voice to be authentic. I'm still learning who Alex is.

The blank page mocks Alex and he sits on his patio, struggling with what he’s supposed to say. He knows that his therapist is right, he needs to work through his emotions. Pull them out and label them properly so he can deal with them. He wants to. He just doesn’t know where to even begin. It was easier to write about his dad. He understood those feelings and could label those. Anger. Shame. Regret. Even with Michael, it had been easy enough to describe how he was feeling. 

This is different. 

Alex hears a car pull into his drive and glances up at the mirror he installed by the door to help him see if intruders were approaching. It’s Greg. Alex pulls the headphones out of his ears and swivels his chair around. 

“Hey little brother,” he calls out as he steps out of his car. 

“Is it 3 o’clock already?” Alex asks, glancing down at his phone, surprised to find that it is. 

Greg pats him on the back in greeting and takes a seat at the chair across from him. 

“You always did lose track of time whenever you wrote.” Greg chuckles. “You composing another cosmic love song to the guy who isn’t your boyfriend?” 

Alex glares at him. “No.” 

Greg throws his hands up in defense. “Hey, I like Forrest. He’s nice. He supports you and is comfortable being out with you. Whoops my ass at paintball which is impressive. I know he’ll be able to protect you—” 

“I don’t need protection,” Alex cuts him off. 

Seriously. It’s like his brothers all forget that he’s in the military and has the same training they do. Just because they used to watch him get beat up when he was little, doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to kick anyone’s ass now that he’s older. Missing leg or not, he can handle himself. 

“Okay,” Greg says, sitting back in the chair, but Alex isn’t ready to let it go. 

“I have more medals than you,” he reminds him with a teasing voice even though he’s serious. 

They all grew up with their dad’s voice in their ear talking about how weak Alex was. Alex deeply internalized that homophobia and he knows that his brothers must have too. But he’s older now and knows better, and he’s made it his mission to make sure his brothers confront their own homophobia, too. Greg is supportive. He’s the only one in their family that loves him without conditions, but even he needs a reminder sometimes. 

“If I’d have stayed, I’d have had just as many medals as you,” Greg scoffs, throwing a pillow at him that Alex easily catches. “That shit doesn’t impress me.” 

“I’m glad you got out,” Alex tells him, sincerely. “Rez life looks good on you.” 

“You didn’t have to keep reenlisting.” 

Alex knows that. And on his worst days, he’s jealous of Greg and dreams about how different his life would have been if he’d been allowed to grow up on the rez. He’ll fantasize about running off to live on the rez with Greg and getting away from all the bullshit. But that’s not what he wants. Not truly. Greg needed the rez to heal. The rez wouldn’t mean healing for Alex, it would mean running away. And Alex is done doing that. 

“At this point I might as well hit the 20 year mark, right?” 

“You’re really gonna do this for another 6 years? You know that a private contractor job will pay you way more than your country ever will.” 

“I don’t know.” Which is a lie. He does know, he just doesn’t know if he’ll be able to explain it properly. “I used to think about getting out every day, but now that Dad’s gone… I don’t know. I guess I just want to leave a better legacy than we had.” 

“Still trying to be a Manes man, I see,” Greg says bitterly. 

Alex shakes his head. 

“Tripp was a really good man,” he attempts to explain. “Stood up for what was right, even when it meant going against his country. We do so much wrong and call it right because we do it while wearing the flag. I just… I feel like I have the opportunity to make some changes from within. And… I don’t know.” 

Greg leans forward and places his elbows on his knees, truly listening. “So this isn’t just about proving something to Dad?” 

“No,” he says. “Maybe? Dad was radicalized by Grandpa Harlan when Tripp was murdered. He didn’t have to become what he did. And I just want to help people see that there’s another way.” 

“People?” 

Alex shrugs. 

“You want to save Flint.” Greg sighs. “You don’t need a uniform to do that. Flint and I talk everyday. He’s not there yet, but I think he will be.” 

“It’s not just Flint.” 

He’s not articulating this well. He’s never been good at explaining himself in a way that people actually hear him. This is why he wanted to write music when he was a kid. Things always came out better through lyrics for him. Alex takes a deep breath and tries again. 

“When that ship crashed in ‘47, it was filled with refugees and what did we do? We created the alien Gitmo. The ones we didn’t kill immediately, we tortured for over 70 years. That didn’t have to happen. If somebody had been brave enough to stand up and say something, things could have been different. Tripp tried to protect Nora, but it wasn’t enough. He never actually stood up to Harlan. I have no proof, but I can feel another moment coming, and I need to be there to show that there’s another way.” 

“So you’re doing this to protect Michael?” 

“I’m doing this for me,” he says. “For my own mental health.” 

Greg doesn’t say anything, but he remains open. It spurs Alex to keep talking. 

“I need to be the kind of man who stands up. My whole life I’ve been silent. I’ve sat by as people treat natives like crap. I’ve benefited from passing while knowing that you and Flint have never had that luxury. I allowed myself to be beaten into a closet for years. Until a few months ago, I’ve never even kissed a man without first looking over my shoulder to make sure nobody else would see it. I’ve watched Liz and Arturo and so many others be told to go back home. And Maria… God.” 

He feels himself getting emotional and his first instinct is to stop. To shut it down. Real men don’t cry. But his therapist has told him that it’s healthy to show emotion and he’s trying to believe that. He’s safe here. Greg isn’t going to tease him or beat him for crying. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” he admits. “I won’t be the kind of man who sits back anymore because he’s afraid. I won’t. I can’t. So yes. I don’t know how to get drunk cowboys to stop calling me a fag. I’m not sure how to make sure that Maria and Liz don’t get pulled over more often due to the color of their skin. I can’t undo the injustices that were done to our people. But this feels like something I can fix. I know this secret about the world that our government has been trying to hide for 70 years. I’m in a position of power to fix this, and I can’t walk away from that. I have a responsibility to do better. I won’t sleep at night if I don’t try.” 

Greg sits back in his seat with a sigh, but he’s smiling at him in that way that Alex knows means he’s proud. 

“Wow,” Greg says. 

Alex blushes and his eyes immediately go to the ground. “Shut up.” 

“No. It’s good,” Greg says. “Been waiting a long time for you to find your voice.” 

“Yeah.” Alex looks up and smiles. “Me too.” 

“You know that if anything happened again the reservation would take people in. They still remember Louise and all the good she did.” 

“I know that you’d all try.” 

It feels good to know that he has family who he can depend on for help. Their ‘I know an alien’ club is small, and has to be for their own good. But there are times when their lack of numbers is incredibly terrifying. 

The two of them are silent for a while as they both process everything that’s just been said. Alex grabs his crutches and stands up, before starting to gather his journal and morning coffee. Greg stands up to help him and they head inside so that Alex can get ready to head out. There is no way they aren’t going to be late by now. Alex will need to text Forrest and let him know. 

“So if you weren’t writing epic love songs, what were you working on that had you so spaced out?” Greg asks after he hands Alex his coffee cup to put in the sink. 

“My therapist wants me to exorcise my demons,” he explains, moving back towards the bedroom where he’s left his leg. Greg follows him. 

“Did you tell her that your demon is dead?” 

“She wants me to talk about Mom.” 

“Ah…” 

“Yeah.” 

Alex grabs a pair of jeans from the closet and throws it on the bed. He then sits down and pulls off his sweatpants and gets to work putting his prosthetic on. 

“I mean the two of you talk, right?” 

“Kind of,” Alex says. 

He doesn’t ignore his mom. She texts him at least once a week and he usually gets around to responding to her. Nothing major. His responses are always short and rarely do they share more than an exchange or two. But they do call each other on birthdays and holidays. And there was that time that he called her to find out what she knew about Project Shepard. 

“You’re still mad at her,” he says. It’s not a question but a statement. 

Alex refuses to meet his eyes. 

“That would be stupid,” he says, throwing his jeans on and grabbing his shoes. “Dad’s the one that kept her from us. It’s not like she stayed away all those years willingly.” 

“Yeah, but you’re mad at her for leaving in the first place.” 

Alex shoots a quick text to Forrest to let him know they are on their way. “No, I get why she left. I’m glad she did.” 

Greg moves into his line of sight and forces Alex to meet his eyes. “She’s offered to come out and visit you. You’ve said you’re always busy.” 

Alex blushes. He hadn’t realized that Greg knew that. 

“Are you driving or am I?” he asks. 

“I will.” 

The two of them get into the car and Greg lets him play with the radio for a few minutes before he says, “Alex.” 

He sighs. 

“I know. I guess I don’t really know how I feel about her and until I can sort out my feelings, I haven’t been ready for more than quick phone calls.” 

“Do you want to repair your relationship with her?” It’s not judgemental, the way he says it. It’s just genuine curiosity. Like Greg won’t care what the answer is one way or the other, he just wants to know. 

“More than anything,” he admits. 

“Well, in my experience, relationships never get better without communication. If you want your relationship to improve, you’ve gotta talk to her. Old wounds can heal, but not on their own. It’ll be awkward and painful for awhile, but that’s okay.” 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about more than just Mom?” Alex gives him a knowing look. 

Greg might like Forrest, but he’s been dropping hints that Alex needs to get back together with Michael since that first open mic night. Greg doesn’t understand that this isn’t a decision that’s Alex’s to make. He put himself out there. Michael knows where he stands. Michael needs time to work through his own issues and Alex is willing to give him that. And if he’s learning to be out and comfortable with being in a relationship with a guy who’s incredibly sweet, funny, and attractive while Michael sorts himself out, there’s nothing wrong with that. Alex has Michael’s complete blessing to date Forrest. Hell, Michael’s even come paintballing with them a time or two when Greg couldn’t make it out for their league. 

“Oh come on, it’s a big brother’s job to give sage advice,” Greg says. 

“Not really. Pretty sure it’s your job to give me shit.” 

They pull into the parking lot of the Pony. It’s full. The Mexican market is proving to be a huge hit in the town, which makes Alex incredibly happy. Maria needs the business. 

“Well Dad did enough of that growing up, so sue me if I feel like somebody should be parenting you through this.” 

Alex refuses to meet Greg’s eyes, which is what causes his gaze to land on Forrest, who’s curiously standing next to Isobel Evans. 

“Oh… yeah. I invited Isobel to join us,” Greg says. Alex looks over to see that he’s blushing in a way Alex hasn’t seen since high school. 

“Isobel, really?” Alex says, smiling like the cat that got the cream. He’s going to have a lot of fun with this. 

“Don’t.” 

“Oh, who am I to judge? I too have fallen victim to the alien charm,” Alex teases. 

“If you embarrass me, I will tell Forrest about the time you peed your pants at CrashCon,” Greg threatens as they get out of the car. 

“I was four,” Alex says with a roll of his eyes. What does he care? “Tell me, is it the blonde hair? The soulful eyes? The way she smells like rain?”

“I swear to god, I will murder you and build a shed around your body so nobody finds you for twenty three years.” 

“Relax. Smoke a peace pipe.” 

Greg shoves Alex, who can’t help but laugh. This feels good. Alex had been positive that his dad had destroyed any feeling of family. Getting to know Greg again these past few months has been good for him. 

“What are you two laughing about?” Forrest asks, pulling on Alex’s hand until he’s able to greet him with a kiss. 

“Oh, just the smell of rain.” Alex can’t help himself. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Greg mutters. 

Forrest gives him a questioning look and Alex just shakes his head. 

“Why don’t we give these two love birds some space, shall we?” Isobel says, grabbing onto Greg’s hand and walking off. 

Smooth, Alex thinks to himself. He watches them walk away and notices that Isobel doesn’t bother dropping Greg’s hand. He smiles. He likes Isobel for Greg. She’s really come into her own over the last year and Alex thinks she could be good for him. 

He turns back to Forrest, who’s glaring at him playfully. “You were late.” 

“I was working on exorcising my demons,” he explains. 

“And did you?” 

Alex shakes his head. Forrest reaches out to place a comforting hand on the small of his back and gives him a kind smile. 

“The words will come when you’re ready. They always do.” 

Alex nods. He’s right.


	2. November

Alex sits at the Pony, nursing his second beer. Maria had offered him some whiskey the moment he’d walked in and she’d seen his face, but he’d turned it down. Today is one of those days where it would be all too easy for him to crawl into a bottle. He refuses to rely on alcohol to fix his problems, though. After growing up with a dad whose punches were always worse after a drink, seeing Michael’s downfall that summer after senior year, and witnessing so many of his fellow soldiers get lost in the bottle… he’d promised himself he would never use alcohol to dull his pain. 

“I figured you’d be carving a turkey by now with your boyfriend and his family,” Michael says, coming up to sit down at the empty stool beside him. 

“Yes, I’m eager to sit around the dinner table and toast to the successful genocide of my people,” he says with a sarcastic smirk. 

Michael opens his mouth to say something but decides against it. 

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes. 

“No, that was fair,” Michael admits. “I didn’t even think.” 

“Most people don’t,” he says, sending him a smile to let him know that he won’t hold it against him. 

Alex holds up his hand to get Maria’s attention and order them a round of drinks, but Michael waves him off. 

“Nothing for me, thanks,” he says. 

“Since when do you turn down free booze, Guerin?” Alex asks, surprised. 

“Since I’m trying this new thing where I don’t drink my problems away.” Michael ducks his head to hide a blush. Alex’s heart skips a beat. 

“Since when?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from showing too much emotion. Michael won’t respond well to it. 

He waits as Michael reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He then hands Alex a red coin. When Alex inspects it closely, he realizes what it is that he’s holding and it makes him unexpectedly emotional. 

“One month?” 

“Yeah, I know. Not a big deal or anything—” 

“Hey,” Alex cuts him off, refusing to let him brush this off like it’s nothing. “It’s a huge deal.” 

Michael smiles back at him and Alex can tell that he had needed to hear that.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he asks. “I can’t imagine you really want to be in a bar right now.” 

“I was coming in here to talk to Maria,” he says. 

And just like that, the warm feeling in Alex’s stomach goes cold. 

“Oh.” 

“Not like that,” Michael says, reaching out to squeeze Alex’s hand. “It’s just that I thought everyone else was with their family for Thanksgiving and I didn’t trust myself to be alone.” 

Alex knows the feeling. It’s that very feeling that also brought him to the Pony tonight. He wasn’t worried about his sobriety like Michael, but he certainly knew staying at home alone wasn’t going to do his mental health any favors. 

“We can stay if you want to be around her.” 

Michael shakes his head. “I’d much rather be with you.” 

It’s lines like that, that Alex blames for his decade long crush on Michael. Not that that’s an option for him anymore. Or at least, not right now. Michael is clearly still working through his own issues, and Alex isn’t the kind of guy who would cheat on his boyfriend. Still, they are allowed to be friends. They are friends. 

“Come on,” he says with a determined nod, standing up and throwing enough cash on the bar to cover his drinks and a generous tip. “I have a whole bunch of meat at home that I need to grill before it goes bad.” 

****

“So what do you usually do on Thanksgiving?” Michael asks from his post at Alex’s grill. The moment they’d gotten home and Alex had lit the grill, Michael had taken over and demanded to be the one that cooked. When Alex saw how much anxious energy Michael had, he’d handed over the tongs without argument. “Other than sit and drink at a bar.” 

“I don’t know actually,” he admits. “My dad’s always made us celebrate Thanksgiving. This is the first one I’ve had where I wasn’t expected at his place. Well, apart from the year I was in Iraq for Thanksgiving. But we spent that day in a fire fight, so the only thing we celebrated was not getting shot.” 

He can tell that Michael clearly wants to ask more about Iraq, but decides against it. “Where’s Forrest?” 

“With his family,” he says with a shrug that earns him a look from Michael. “He offered to stay but I told him it was fine.” 

Michael nods. “And Greg?” 

Alex becomes hyper fixated on tearing the label off of his water bottle. “My mom’s visiting him. They’re doing something for National Day of Mourning.” 

“And you didn’t want to join them?” 

Alex shrugs. He doesn’t really want to talk about his mom right now. Or the fact that he had been feeling all these negative emotions towards Greg ever since he’d told Alex that their mom would be visiting. He knows they aren’t fair. They certainly aren’t mature. 

“What about you?” he decides to change the subject. “I’d have thought for sure that Isobel would have dragged you over for Thanksgiving festivities. That girl’s never met a holiday she didn’t love.” 

Michael chuckles. “I’m still finding confetti from the Election Day party she threw.” 

“You think that’s bad? In September, she commedeered my house and invited Greg over to celebrate Cheese Pizza Day.” 

“Yeah, that’s just ‘cause she’s thirsty,” Michael says, causing them both to laugh. “Not that I can blame her. Your dad is a lot of things, but he made some damn fine men.” 

Alex blushes at the way Michael looks him up and down, not even trying to be subtle. 

“You want to talk about genes? Do they make unattractive people where you come from?” Alex flirts, enjoying the way that Michael bites his lip and hides his face whenever someone gives him a compliment. He’s missed that look. He’s not sure he’s seen it since they were seventeen. 

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, turning back to the grill to flip the steaks. 

“So you didn’t give me an answer,” he says. “Didn’t Isobel invite you over?” 

“She tried.” 

“And?” 

“They’re with their parents,” Michael says. “I didn’t want to intrude.” 

Micheal didn’t want to intrude. Alex would love to say he didn’t know the feeling, but it would be a lie. Isn’t that why he’d turned down Greg’s offer to come over? 

“I get that the Evans’s didn’t take you in because they thought you needed more help than they could give. But they know that you’re their sibling right? I mean their children were found with you in the middle of the desert. They have to understand your connection to them.” 

Michael doesn’t say anything and it clicks for Alex. And it truly pisses him off. 

“How is that possible?” He scoffs. 

“Our records were all sealed,” Michael says. He keeps his back to Alex, suddenly deciding that the grill needs his undivided attention. 

“Sure, but when you showed up again, Max and Isobel never told them? They never guessed?” 

Michael shrugs like he doesn’t care, but Alex has learned better by now.

“By the time I moved back to Roswell, I wasn’t looking for a family. I barely tolerated Max and Isobel being around. I’m not sure why Max and Isobel never told their parents who I am, but it wouldn’t have mattered.” 

He never mattered is what Michael doesn’t say, but it hangs in the air between them regardless. It breaks his heart. There’s a lot about Max and Isobel that Alex is grateful for. He knows that they love Michael. But there is so much about them that pisses Alex off. 

“And you never asked them?” 

“The Evans’s did right by Max and Isobel,” Michael says, clearly defensive. “They gave them a good home and I’ll always be grateful for that. I love them both dearly and it would have broken my heart if they’d had to endure the abuse I did. And if Valenti is right and Max really was the one drawing on the walls in the group home, he needed a home more than I ever did. Can you imagine Max with all of his anger issues living with a meth head?” 

No, Alex really doesn’t think that would have ended well. Michael was an incredibly kind, gentle, loving kid and the foster care system had done it’s best to break him. Yet, despite it all, Michael remains intensely compassionate. Compassionate enough to take the blame for a murder and throw his entire life away all to protect his sister from the reality of her actions. Alex can’t imagine many kids surviving the homes that Michael was put into. Maybe he was right. None of them deserved to grow up unloved, but if any of them were going to be able to survive it, it was always going to be Michael. 

“They are good people, I’m not angry at them,” Michael finishes. 

“But you also don’t want to go to dinner with them. Thus why you’re here instead of having Thanksgiving with your family,” he says, eyeing him critically. He may claim he’s not angry, and maybe it’s right not to be. But Alex knows that anger and jealousy doesn’t always get attached to what’s ‘right’ or ‘fair.’ 

“Who says I’m not spending Thanksgiving with my family?” Michael says so nonchalantly that Alex doesn’t even stand a chance. His heart swells. 

“Sorry… not Thanksgiving,” he corrects himself. “What did you call it?” 

“National Day of Mourning.” 

“Right. How have I grown up in New Mexico my entire life and never heard of that?” Michael asks as he begins to pull the steaks off of the grill. Alex stands up to help him with the plates. 

“White supremacy?” 

“Ah, yes,” Michael says bitterly. “The gift that keeps on giving. Don’t forget its other murderous cousin- American Nationalism.” 

For a split second, the soldier in him almost gets defensive, but he catches himself quick before he reacts. After years of growing up with his dad pumping nationalist propaganda down his throat followed by the entire indoctrination process one goes through as a soldier, he’s often guilty of getting immediately defensive of the flag. But he’s been to war and watched the world literally burn around him. He’s heard the horror stories that his grandparents used to tell him and knows the continued atrocities committed against native people. He watches how his friends and siblings navigate the world differently than he has to, because he’d been born with lighter skin. And he knows that there’s no real argument to be had. Michael is right. 

Alex leads him over to the patio table. It’s a decent night out and they’ve both got jackets on. Alex wants to enjoy the patio while he still can. Pretty soon, it’ll be too cold, even with a fire. They sit down and begin to eat. 

“You never really talk about it,” Michael says. 

“About what?”

“Your heritage.” 

“Oh.” 

Alex pauses to think about it. He guesses he really never has. It’s not like it’s a big secret. He’s brought Micheal to the reservation where his mom grew up. He’d mentioned it a few times when they’d still had the lab at the old boarding school. But it’s not something that they’ve ever really discussed. And whenever they have, he rarely speaks of it as if it’s his own culture and heritage. 

“I mean Liz is like Ms. Mexico, always going on her awesomely loud rants about oppression and culture, muttering in Spanish and calling Max out for his privilege. And you know Maria is always posting about representation, racism, and police brutality. But you don’t ever really say anything.” 

He’s not wrong. Alex has been silent his entire life. There was safety in it. But even that’s not exactly it. 

“I guess it’s because that part of my life was kept from me for so long that it doesn’t always feel like it’s even me anymore,” he admits. 

Micheal gives him a strange look. “You mean your dad never—” 

“My dad?” Alex cuts him off with a shocked laugh. “You think that Jesse Manes, poster child for white male privilege, would sit around and teach us about the Dine ceremonies?” 

“Probably not, no,” Michael agrees. “But he couldn't have been that racist. He married your mom.” 

Alex snorts. “That he did.” 

“Why did your mom leave?” 

Alex freezes at the question. “It’s complicated.” 

It’s nicer than saying he’s not ready to talk about it, but not nearly as honest. Michael looks disappointed, but doesn’t push it. He changes the subject and instead asks Alex about work. They talk for another hour before they both have eaten enough to feed a small army. Michael offers to take the dishes inside while Alex gets a fire started for them, since it’s starting to cool off. 

“So what made you decide to get sober?” he asks once Micheal is back outside and comfortable. 

“Figured it was time to stop wasting my life.” 

The words feel like a slap in the face. Alex remembers being seventeen and terrified and saying that he wanted to be with Michael, but not if he was wasting his life. At the time, he had no idea what Michael was going through. As far as he knew, Michael was a perfectly fine, healthy kid who was on his way to UNM with a full ride. Then he’d gotten gay bashed by his dad and suddenly the quiet, genius of a boy he’d fallen for was getting arrested, getting drunk and high, and refusing to go to college. He’d had no idea what was really happening. 

And sure, the spiral would have still been tragic even if Alex had known the truth back then. But Alex likes to think that he wouldn’t have been so harsh… So quick to get overwhelmed and run. He likes to think that he would have been more supportive and less angry at the world if he’d known. Then again, maybe not. He was still a traumatized kid himself and he’d have always been too broken back then to ever have been able to handle the chaos that Michael had become. 

Now though, he regrets pushing Michael away and letting him believe it had been entirely his fault that Alex went to war. 

Michael must see the horrified look on his face, because he quickly moves his chair closer to Alex and begins to clarify himself. 

“Maria said something to me back when we were together and I didn’t really hear it then,” he explains, reaching out to put his hand on Alex’s. “But she said that a lot of people made a lot of sacrifices so that she could be here and she didn’t want to waste them.” 

Alex thinks instantly of Michael’s mom and squeezes his hand in support. “Your mom would be proud of you.” 

“You think so?” he asks, looking so much younger than his thirty years. 

“I know so,” Alex assures him. “Because she loved you. And as somebody that also loves you just as fiercely, I can tell you that I’m so proud of you.” 

Michael lets go of his hand and looks away, rubbing at his face and Alex has enough tact to not mention it. Alex stares ahead at the fire and allows him the time to work through his emotions. 

“So how long are you going to stay ‘not mad’ at your mom?” Michael asks several minutes later. 

He’s about to argue that he’s not mad at his mom, but decides against it. His therapist has told him that he uses his anger and sass to avoid having real conversations. And as much as Alex wants to avoid this conversation, he feels like he owes Michael some vulnerability of his own. After all, he’s the one that asked Michael to start meeting him in the middle. It’s a two way street. 

“Have you ever been mad at someone for something they couldn’t control?” 

Michael gives him a look that has Alex chuckling. “Of course you have. Right.” 

He pauses to figure out how to word what he wants to say, and Michael doesn’t push him. 

“How did you forgive Max and Isobel? After they were adopted and you weren’t… How did you build a relationship with them?” 

Michael takes his time, thinking through his answer. “Well, you’ve met Max and Isobel. They’re a special brand of stubborn. Not really the kind of people you can push away. I guess they kept showing up and eventually I stopped feeling the need to push them away.”

“That’s not really all that helpful,” he admits. 

“Why?” 

“Cause my mom stopped showing up.” 

****

Much later that evening, Alex is crawling into bed. Michael had stayed until well after one in the morning, before assuring him that he was good to drive home and no longer in danger of drinking. Alex had then texted Forrest to apologize for ignoring his calls, but Forrest had still been awake so they’d ended up talking on the phone. Forrest had been slightly annoyed with Alex for not picking up, but as soon as he explained that Michael was newly sober and struggling with being alone on the holiday, he’d understood and quickly dropped his anger. They’d talked for another half an hour before hanging up with promises of a date night when Forrest got back to town on Sunday. 

Now, it’s almost 2:30 in the morning and Alex should really be getting some sleep, but his thoughts are too loud. Instead, he sits up and turns on the lamp, grabbing his notebook from the nightstand. He starts writing. Writing about his anger at growing up alone. Writing about his pain over not being allowed to embrace his sexuality. Writing about his confusion over having his entire native identity stripped away from him, and how he now feels shame for letting it happen. Because, the truth is, his dad hadn’t worked to keep them connected to their culture, but Alex hadn’t fought it. Greg managed to keep in touch with their heritage just fine. Alex hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with any part of him that came from his mom. But now it feels like there’s a void that’s preventing him from becoming his whole self, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. 

And after dozens of pages filled with his angry chicken scratch, when the sun is starting to peek through the curtains and he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, Alex finally writes the question he’s refused to ask since he was eight years old: 

_Why did you leave us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


	3. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd at the moment because I'm still getting into the Roswell fandom and trying to make friends! So if anyone out there is up for a new best friend to chat ideas & headcanons with, who also happens to enjoy doing some quick grammar and canon compliance checks--- hit me up! I'm adiwriting on here and Tumblr <3
> 
> PS- you also don't have to beta for me, I'm happy just to make more Roswell friends ;)

Alex finds himself sitting on the front porch of Forrest’s parents’ house in need of a break. After a morning filled with so many people who have no concept of personal space, Alex just needs a minute. He likes Forrest’s family. He truly does. Seven siblings, spouses, endless nieces and nephews and all. They are good, kind people, which shouldn’t be all that surprising given how sweet Forrest is. But until two days ago, Alex’s only experience with the Long family has been the Roswell branch, who were a bunch of privileged, racist, homophobic assholes. 

It’s been nice to see a family so accepting of their son. It’s been nice to feel accepted. It’s just a lot. Alex didn’t grow up in a loving home and he still finds himself getting exhausted around too many happy people. 

It’s silly, he knows. He’d told his therapist as much when he’d called her last night for an emergency FaceTime session. But it’s how he feels and he’s learning to honor his feelings as they come and recognize they are temporary. 

Or something like that. 

Because half of the things his therapist tells him still sound wrong, but he’s at least evolved enough to recognize that’s just his internalized, toxic masculinity talking. His therapist is well credentialed. She’s well researched. So he’s trying to listen to her. He’s truly trying. 

She’s the one that suggested he step away when the crowd got to be too much for him. And Forrest had assured him afterwards that needing space is valid and had promised him that he’d keep his family away whenever he needed a second to breathe. 

So here he is. Bundled up and sitting outside on Christmas day, staring out at the neighborhood where Forrest grew up. It’s an eclectic group of houses. There’s a confederate flag flying directly across the street, sandwiched between two houses with Black Lives Matter signs in their yard. Several houses down there’s still a Trump sign up despite the election being over a month and a half ago. The next door neighbor has the pride flag literally painted onto their garage, despite the fact that the couple who lives there is straight, according to Forrest. And there’s a ‘Deaf Child at Play’ sign up a few houses down that’s also covered in rainbow colored puzzle pieces. Alex’s favorite part may be the colorful chalk argument going on between the two houses on the corner. One house is calling for the deportation of illegals while the other very boldly wrote: “This was our land first, you colonizing ignorant piece of shit.” 

Alex imagines what it would have been like to grow up in a neighborhood that worked hard to fight back against hate. Alex’s neighborhood growing up was an endless line of American Flags, republican support, thinly veiled racist rhetoric, and calls for protecting the sanctity of marriage. Maybe if he’d been able to look out his bedroom window to see any kind of support, he wouldn’t have been silent for so long. 

Maybe he’d have a voice. 

A man steps out of his house with a large garbage bag and waves at him. Alex waves back. 

“You Forrest’s boyfriend?” he calls out as he throws the garbage back in the trash. Alex notices he’s wearing an Air Force issue sweatshirt. The same sweatshirt Alex has on under his coat, actually. 

“Yes, sir,” he says, unsure where this is going. Most of Alex’s interactions with military guys these days are generally accepting… but it had taken him earning several medals and losing a leg to gain the respect of his platoon. It’s still a mixed bag on how strangers will take him, especially older military men. 

“He tells me you were stationed at al-Taji?” The man walks to the end of his driveway so they can hear each other better. Alex stands up and moves to join him. 

“Yes, sir. Then again in Baghdad,” he says. 

“I was in the Gulf War, then was called back for a few months right after 9/11. Retired now,” the man says. “The Middle East is no joke, son.” 

He gives Alex an approving once over that puts him more at ease. Alex shakes his head and gives a breathy chuckle. “No, it’s not.” 

“Lockheart,” the man introduces himself, holding out his hand. 

“Manes.” 

“You still active, Manes?” Lockheart asks. 

Alex nods. “I’m technically stationed at Cannon, but I spend most of my time out of Walker.”

“Walker? Isn’t that closed?” 

Alex shrugs and Lockheart laughs. “You know all that classified shit is the reason people think you guys are hiding aliens down there.” 

Alex joins in his laughter. “Yeah, well you know how it is.” 

“Indeed I do.” 

They stand in relatively comfortable silence for a minute or two before Lockheart says, “Manes, huh? I knew a Manes back in my day. Clay?” 

“My brother.” 

“Your parents must be real proud of you.” 

Alex doesn't know how to respond to that. He suddenly finds the crack in the sidewalk incredibly interesting. 

“Ah, I see,” Lockheart says. It’s not with pity or judgement, which gives Alex the confidence to look back up. “Well fuck ‘em. I can’t speak for everyone but I know I sure as hell didn’t fight for freedom across the world to not support it within our own borders and ranks.” 

“Thank you,” Alex says, sincerely. 

“You take care of Forrest. He’s a good kid.”

That, Alex can agree with. 

“I better get back inside,” Lockheart says when they hear a scream coming from his house. “The sugar rush has to have kicked in by now and I’m sure my kids are driving my lady crazy.” 

“You have a Merry Christmas, sir,” he says, finding he truly means it. 

“You too, son,” he says with a pat to Alex’s shoulder.

Alex turns to head back to the house and notices Forrest on his front porch, sipping on a cup of coffee and watching him with a knowing smile on his face. Alex has no idea how long he’s been there. 

“You told the neighbors about me?” Alex teases. 

Forrest tilts his head to the side and bites his lower lip, not looking a single bit guilty. That look does things to Alex. 

“Well he was bragging about his kids so I had to try and one up him, you know how it is,” he says, holding his arms open. Alex falls into them. The two of them stand there for several minutes, enjoying the warmth of each other’s arms. 

“You still need space? ‘Cause my mom is making sandwiches with all the leftovers from last night.” 

Alex moans happily. “Can we bring your mom back with us when we leave?” 

“My mom hates Roswell. You won’t convince her to move no matter how in love with you she is,” Forrest says. 

“Ugh, fine,” Alex groans, and allows Forrest to lead him back inside. 

****

Alex lays back in bed, and runs his fingers through Forrest’s hair while he uses his stomach as a pillow. Forrest is FaceTiming with one of his old military buddies stationed in Korea, while Alex stares down at his own phone. He’s largely ignored it all day, which is unfortunate, because now he’s got 258 missed messages. He’d nearly flown into a panic thinking there’d been some alien crisis in his absence before he realized that a good 100 of those messages had been a group chat he’d gotten added to with the girls, all of who were gossiping about boys. He’d left the group chat the moment Isobel had started talking about how she'd been sexting with Greg all day. 

If they had time to gossip about their sex lives, they’re fine. There’s no crisis. It’s just Christmas and everyone is feeling that increased obligation to connect to each other. 

Forrest had tried to tell him that it was just a sign of how many people loved him and obligation had nothing to do with it, but Alex knows that can’t be entirely true. Clay wants nothing to do with him and yet Alex has a handful of messages from him filled with pictures of the two nieces he’s never met. 

Alex takes his time going through all of the messages and responding with his own wishes for holiday cheer. He smiles at the picture Kyle sends him that he’d found of the two of them trying to build a snowman with less than an inch of snow on the ground. He thanks Rosa for the playlist she’d created of their favorite songs from high school. He gushes over the book of poetry that Max had written and bound for Liz and congratulates her on getting back together with him. Two separate girls from his old platoon have gotten engaged, which accounts for another large chunk of the insane amount of messages he has. 

Alex can’t help but smile at the string of texts he gets from Michael. 

_Michael (10:08am): I hope Tennessee is treating you right. Liz gave me your present. Thank you!_

_Michael (1:43pm): We missed you! Arturo cooked everyone a massive breakfast this morning which was nice. Then everyone took off for family time, so I went to a meeting. It was good. Always nice to hear some people are far more fucked up than I am._

_Michael (2:03pm): Anyways, I won’t keep you. I steal you from your boyfriend enough, and you guys deserve to cuddle up in front of the fire and sing Christmas carols or whatever the hell normal people do on Christmas. I wouldn’t know. I just wanted to say that I appreciate you and everything you’ve done for me these last few weeks <3 _

_Michael (2:05pm): Oh… and I’m going over to the Evans’s this evening. Thought you’d like to know that I’m evolving as a person._

_Michael (2:09pm): Sorry for blowing up your phone. Apparently I’m the kind of guy who sends messages repeatedly. Like a creeper._

_Michael (2:55pm): I hope you don’t think I’m a creeper._

_Michael (2:57pm): Stopping now. Merry Christmas. Stop by when you get home. I have a gift for you._

Alex can’t help but laugh at that. He doesn’t mind Michael blowing up his phone. He knows that Michael just gets antsy sometimes as he’s still figuring out how to navigate life without all of his old vices. He’s happy that Michael feels comfortable enough around him to talk to him. Lack of communication had always been their downfall, so he’ll never complain about any communication Michael gives him. 

_Alex (9:34pm): I don’t think you’re a creeper, it’s cute. And I thought your two month chip was my Christmas present ;)_

Michael’s replay is almost instant. 

_Michael (9:35pm): My two-month chip is my present to myself. You get an actual gift. Wrapped it and everything._

_Alex (9:35pm): Wow. Impressive. Never thought I’d see the day that Michael Guerin used wrapping paper._

_Michael (9:36pm): I’m evolving as a person._

A warm feeling pools in Alex’s stomach as he thinks about just how much Michael has changed. Alex had loved him before, and would have continued to love him forever, just the way he was. But damn if the man he’s becoming isn’t a whole new level of attractive. 

_Alex (9:37pm): I’m proud of you for going to a meeting today. And that you went to the Evans’s._

_Michael (9:38pm): Thanks, Dad!_

Alex chuckles at that, earning him a curious look from Forrest. Alex moves to give him a quick kiss before laying back down. Forrest easily goes back to his conversation 

_Alex (9:40pm): How was Christmas with the Evans?_

_Michael (9:41pm): Still here._

_Alex (9:42pm): Oh, sorry! Go enjoy your family. I’ll talk to you later._

_Michael (9:43pm): Max has declared himself my sober companion for the evening._

Alex grimaces. Max and Michael’s relationship has come a long way. They have gotten much closer than they’ve been in years. Still, Max’s level of caring still tips easily into nagging and it can get to Michael. 

Alex (9:45pm): Nevermind. I can stay on. 

_Michael (9:46pm): Haha! It could be worse. Besides, I like talking to you. Doesn’t feel right not to at least see you on Christmas._

And there goes that fluttery feeling in his chest again. Alex really shouldn’t still get butterflies when Michael says things like that to him. They are friends and he’s literally laying in bed with his boyfriend. 

_Michael (9:47pm): Have you called her?_

Alex doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about. He hasn’t. It’s the main reason that he’d ignored his phone for most of the day. 

_Alex (9:53pm): I called Greg this morning._

Greg is currently at their mom’s for Christmas. Alex had called him when he’d first woken up, feeling like it was a relatively safe time. They’d talked for about 5 minutes before Alex had heard his mom’s voice in the background. Alex had hurried off the phone, pretending that the kids were desperate to open presents, before his mom could so much as ask who Greg was talking to. Alex had promised to call back later once all the holiday festivities had died down. He conveniently hadn’t gotten around to it yet. 

_Michael (9:54pm): That’s not exactly what I asked <3 _

_Alex (9:55pm): It’s too late to call now._

_Michael (9:56pm): Isn’t she on Pacific Time?_

Alex glares at his phone. He doesn’t even ask how Michael knows that. 

_Michael (9:57pm): I’m not telling you what to do. I’m on your side no matter what._

_Alex (9:58pm): But…_

Because he knows that it’s coming and Michael may as well just say it. 

_Michael (10:00pm): But if I hadn’t heard from you all day, I would have picked up your call no matter what time it was._

Alex sets his phone down because every response he can come up with is incredibly snarky and he knows that wouldn’t be fair to Michael. He’s just being a good friend. A good, honest friend. 

See… Alex is evolving as a person, too. 

Forrest spends another minute on the phone with his buddy before they say their goodbyes and he hangs up. 

“You ready for bed?” he asks Alex, shifting around until his head is on the pillow next to Alex. 

“Yeah,” Alex says with a smile. He places his phone on the nightstand, ignoring the new message from Michael. 

“I’m glad you agreed to come to Tennessee with me,” Forrest says.

“Me, too,” Alex admits. “Your family is pretty great.” 

Forrest leans in to kiss him before shutting off the lights. 

Alex lays there for several minutes, his thoughts way too loud to even attempt sleep. Forrest’s family has been amazing, which has been good for him on so many levels. It’s been so healing, being around a family that loves as unconditionally as Forrest’s does. Even when they fought, it was always with a level of love and respect that Alex isn’t familiar with. It’s an example of how things should be. How he wants things to be for his own family, whenever he gets around to having one. 

But despite all the inner peace he’d found here, there’s still a bitterness within him. Forrest has what Alex never got to. He has two parents that love him. So yes, it is hard for him to think about talking to his mom while he’s in this house. He doesn’t know how to be civil to her when two doors down is a shining example of all the things his mom could have been for him but never was. 

He reaches out for his phone and pulls up the message she’d sent him this morning that he’d stubbornly refused to open. 

_Mindy (10:34am): Merry Christmas, Sweetheart! I love you and I miss you every day. I hope you are safe and well. Please call me if you get the time today. I would love to hear your voice._

There’s a picture attached. It’s an old one of their family on Christmas morning. His dad has to have been the one to take it, because everyone is in the photo except him. Alex couldn’t be more than 2 in the picture. His mom is holding him while all of his brothers fight for space on the armchair his mom is in. 

Alex turns off his screen and places the phone back on the nightstand. Forrest wraps his arms around him from behind and Alex closes his eyes. Allows himself to seek the comfort of his boyfriend’s embrace. He has a good life. He is loved. He has a family. Sure, most of them aren’t blood, but that doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need his mom in his life. 

Alex reaches out for his phone again, staring at the picture. 

“You can call her, if you need,” Forrest whispers. 

Alex doesn’t respond to that. He just turns his phone back off and puts it down. He’s not calling her. He’s going to sleep. 

He closes his eyes again, and instantly his mind starts replaying old memories. They aren’t clear, they are too old to be vivid. But there are flashes. Fleeting memories of happiness. Feelings of warm arms. Words of love just out of reach. Before that picture, he could hardly remember what she looked like. He’s purposefully never accepted her friend requests on social media. He always scrolls quickly past any pictures Greg posts of her. He hasn’t wanted to remember her face. It’s hard to miss somebody that you can’t remember. 

“Fuck it,” he grumbles, sitting up in bed and turning on the light. Forrest sits up and wraps his arm around his shoulder. 

He pulls up his mom’s number and his thumb hovers over the call button. His heart is racing and he knows he’s sweating. 

“I’m right here,” Forrest assures him. Alex sends him a grateful smile. 

Alex takes a steading breath in and focuses on the way that the air fills his lungs. He holds it for a count of three before letting it out. Then he presses the call button. 

His mom doesn’t give him much time to second guess his decision. She picks up on the first ring. 

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He can hear the smile in her voice and it makes him irrationally angry for some reason. 

“Hey Mom,” he says. Forrest squeezes his shoulder. Alex isn’t sure if it’s in warning or support. 

“Merry Christmas!” 

Alex nods. He can do this. They do this every holiday. He calls. She wishes him well. They talk about something stupid like the weather and then, when the silence gets awkward enough, one of them makes an excuse to hang up. 

“Yeah. You too.” 

“What are you doing?” she asks. 

His first thought is to tell her that he’s laying in bed, half dressed with his boyfriend, just to test her. To listen for the gasp of shock or tone of disgust he expects from her. But the truth is, he doesn’t know how she would react. Greg says she would be cool with it, but Alex has never tested that theory. He feels like he should, but knows it’s petty. And he’s determined to be the mature one. To show her that he’d grown up just fine without her help. She doesn’t get to see how broken he is. 

“Nothing,” is the response he eventually settles on. 

“Gregory says you’re in Tennessee?” she asks, clearly trying to engage him. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t offer her any more than that. Forrest runs his hand up and down his thigh in comfort. Alex looks at him and he mouths ‘talk to her.’ Alex just rolls his eyes and remains silent. 

His mom doesn’t seem to know what to say either, and it gives him a sinking feeling of satisfaction as he pictures her struggling, trying to figure out how to have a conversation with her own son. 

“Is the weather nice?” she asks and Alex can’t help the snort that he releases. 

“Yeah. The weather’s great,” he says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. 

“Alex, I…” she starts to say but stops. Good. He’s not in the mood for an apology from her. 

“It’s getting late, Mom. And my boyfriend’s mom is actually here and planning on cooking us breakfast in the morning so…” 

Okay. So that was petty of him and he does feel guilty for the shuttered breath he can hear her take. 

“Well that sounds serious,” she says and he can tell she’s crying. He feels like an asshole. He doesn’t feel bad enough to actually apologize, but he does still feel like an asshole. 

He rarely gets angry at her when they talk. They don’t talk enough for him to really have the opportunity. But he just can’t. Not today. Not after an entire day of watching his boyfriend interact with his seemingly perfect parents. 

“It is,” he says. 

“I’m happy for you,” she says. “You deserve to be happy.” 

“I deserve a lot of things,” he says. 

“I know. I know.” 

Neither of them say anything for what feels like hours, but Alex is watching the clock like a hawk. It’s only a minute. 

He can hear her sniffling on the line. This is why he doesn’t FaceTime with her. It’s much easier to ignore her crying if he doesn’t have to see it. 

“Okay,” she finally says. “Well, I love you.” 

“Yeah. You too.” He’s always very careful not to say it back to her. He does love her, he just doesn’t trust himself to say it. Doing so feels like it would open up a floodgate he isn’t ready for. 

“I miss you. Maybe we can look at our calendars and find a time I could come and visit you,” she offers. 

It’s the same offer she’s made numerous times over the years. And his response is the same as always. “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Okay, well have a good night, Sweetheart. Thank you for calling,” she says. 

He’s about to hang up when Forrest elbows him in the ribs, hard. Alex turns to glare at him and gets a stern look in response. 

Alex knows that the two of them have talked about what Alex has been writing in his journal. Forrest has been helping him put his thoughts into song lyrics. They’d discussed the fact that Alex should really try talking to his mom about what he’s written. Writing song lyrics is cathartic, but it’s never going to give him the answers that he wants. 

Well fuck. 

“Whydidyouleaveus?” he asks quickly, desperate to get it out but still not sure that he’s really ready to hear her answer. 

“What?” she asks and he sighs deeply. 

“Why did you leave us?” he says, this time more clearly. 

She’s quiet for a beat and he seriously debates just hanging up. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” is all she says. 

“This is stupid,” he whispers to Forrest, who just smiles at him encouragingly. Alex rolls his eyes. 

“Can I ask what brought this up?” she asks. 

“I don’t know.” It’s a lie. 

“Okay.” 

He snorts. Of course that’s all she has to say. This is why he never asked her before. He didn’t expect a real answer. Nobody in their family ever really talks about anything. Forrest pulls Alex back until he’s cradled in his arms and it gives Alex the courage to keep going. If he puts himself out there and it fails, like it’s clearly going to, he can tell people he tried and they can leave him alone. 

“I’ve been going to therapy and working through some stuff and I just… I want to know why you left us.” 

“I didn’t want to.” He can hear her struggling to catch her breath, and now there’s no pretending that she’s not crying. “I tried to take your father to court and it just… I didn’t win.” 

It’s the answer he expected. He knows it’s the truth. And still… it’s not enough. He can hear Greg in the background, asking if she’s alright and he feels guilty. It’s Christmas. He should have just wished her well and hung up. 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he says. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no,” she tries to assure him. “Clearly it’s been on your mind and I want us to be able to talk about this.” 

“Okay.” 

Neither of them says anything and it’s not until Alex lets out a bitter laugh that he realizes he’s crying, too. 

“Did you know what it was going to be like?” he asks. Forrest reaches over him to grab a tissue to hand him. He gives him a grateful smile and blows his nose. 

“Your father?” 

“Yeah.” 

She’s quiet for a moment before answering. He can barely hear her response, she's so quiet. “I didn’t think he’d ever turn his fists to you.” 

Well that’s telling. As far as Alex knew, his father had never been violent prior to realizing that Alex was gay. But that never made sense to him. It never made sense that somebody would go from father of the year to abusive dick with no warning signs. 

“He hurt you before,” he says. It’s not a question, he knows that it’s true without her saying it. But it’s news to him. 

“Yes,” she confirms.

Suddenly, Greg’s forgiveness of her makes a whole lot more sense. He’d known. He’d told Alex to talk to her. He’d tried to get him to hear her side of the story. 

It’s strange. One fact both changes everything and changes nothing. 

“If you knew what a monster he was, what made you think he wouldn’t do that to us?” he asks, realizing that his voice is louder than necessary. He’s going to wake up the rest of the house. He tries to take calming breaths, but he can’t. There’s a rage building in him that he hasn’t experienced since before his father died. 

“You were boys. Manes men.” He can hear the regret in her voice. Good. She should feel regret. She’d left them. He’d always defended her to Flint because he truly thought she’d had no idea what his dad was going to become… but that’s just not true. 

“Yeah, ‘til I wasn’t,” he says bitterly. 

He can’t do this. He grabs his crutch and stands up. He can’t sit still. There’s too much anxious energy coursing through him. 

“Sweetheart, if I’d had any idea that you were gay, I wouldn’t have left.” 

He processes her words. He has to laugh. So she’d known his dad was homophobic, too. 

“I was 8! I didn’t even know I was gay!” Forrest holds up a calming hand and Alex realizes where he is. He doesn’t want to wake up his family with this. Forrest stands up and Alex lets him pull him into his arms. 

“I fought for you all,” she tries to explain. “I took your dad to court. More than once. But you know how it goes. The judge took one look at me and one look at your father and they’d already made up their minds. Nobody was going to take a war hero’s kids away and hand them to a poor girl from the reservation. And eventually I ran out of money to even try.” 

Alex buries his head in Forrest’s shoulder and cries, which only increases the shame. He knows that there’s nothing wrong with showing emotion. He knows that Forrest won’t judge him for it, but still… _Still_ he has his dad’s voice in his head yelling at him to man up. 

It’s been twenty two years since his mom left. This shouldn’t still affect him like this. 

“Alex, baby,” she says. She sounds worried, and that alone pisses him off enough to try and pull himself together. 

He looks up and Forrest is trying to talk him through a deep breathing exercise. Alex drops the phone from his ear and holds it at his side as he works to match Forrest’s breathing. It takes several rounds of counting and breathing before Alex feels grounded again. 

“You good?” Forrest asks, eyeing him carefully. 

Alex rubs a hand over his face before nodding. Forrest then gestures to the phone at his side. Alex expects that his mom probably hung up by now, but he’s surprised to find that she’s stayed on the line. 

“Uh… thank you, Mom,” he says, his voice not quite back to normal. 

“Alex—” 

“No,” he cuts her off. It’s enough. He’s reached his limit for the day. He needs to be done. “I asked and now I know.” 

“Sweetheart—” she tries again. He shakes his head, despite the fact that she can’t see him. 

“I need some time to process this,” he admits. Cause that’s what he’s supposed to do now. Be honest about his limits and make them known. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay,” he nods. He’d set his limit and she’d accepted that, just like his therapist had promised him that people would. Or at least, the people who were worth being in his life would accept it. So that’s a good sign, right? 

“Will you call me again?” she asks. “Once you’ve had time to process? I think we should keep talking about this.” 

“I don’t….” Alex takes a steading breath. “Yeah. I guess. Sure.” 

“Thank you,” she says. And he can tell by the way she says it, that she truly means it. That she wants to work through this with him. 

“Mmhmm,” he hums, unsure how to respond. 

“I love you.” 

Alex’s breath hitches and the lump in his throat returns. He can’t say it back. Not yet. 

“Okay,” he says instead. “Goodnight.” 

“Merry Christmas, Alex.” 

Alex smiles and finds it’s not entirely forced. 

“Yeah. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love <3


	4. March

“I guess I still blame you for that,” Flint says to him and Alex has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from lashing out in defense. They are supposed to be listening. If Flint wants to blame Alex for their shitty childhood, then he’s entitled to his emotions. 

After all, hadn’t Alex blamed himself for his dad’s behavior for years? Still, looking at the anger in Flint’s eyes, Alex wants to fight back. 

Anger is the easiest emotion to feel. It’s safe. It keeps people at a distance. It’s protected him for years. But safe isn’t going to move him forward. These are the things he’s been learning. 

“Alex didn’t cause Dad to go off the rails,” Greg says, much calmer than Alex finds himself to be. 

“Dad was fine until he decided to start pushing the boundaries,” Flint argues. 

Alex scoffs. 

“Pushing the boundaries?” Alex finally joins in, unable to bite his tongue any longer and refusing to let Greg fight his battles. “I was gay!” 

“You didn’t have to flaunt it!” Flint argues. 

Alex rolls his eyes. When had he ever flaunted it? He’d never acted on anything in public before Forrest, and even then, he hadn’t done that until after his father had died. He’d kissed a total of two boys growing up. One at a sleepaway camp while his dad had been on the other side of the world for a training exercise — and still, he’d dragged the boy into the middle of the woods so there was no chance of anyone knowing. Then there was Michael, who he’d actively worked to keep a secret from everyone for years. Alex had never come out publicly, not even to his family. The only five people in the world he’d ever spoken to about his sexuality prior to the age of 25 were Liz, Rosa, Maria, Michael, and Mimi DeLuca. 

Flint really thinks he flaunted it? Alex sits up and is about to let him have it before their therapist holds up her hand to intervene. 

“Let’s remember that this is a conversation, and healthy conversations involve talking to each other,” she says, calmly. “We are allowed to feel anger towards one another, but we should work to make sure we aren’t yelling so loud that it mutes the other person.” 

Alex might actually want to mute Flint and his self-satisfied arrogance, but Alex had promised to try. He doesn’t want to live his entire life hating the members of his family. If for nothing else than his own mental health, he needs to find a way to forgive the people in his life. He takes a deep breath and watches Flint do the same. 

“I never flaunted it,” he tries his hand at saying calmly. “The first time Dad ever hit me, I hadn’t done anything. I was ten. I had just come home from Maria’s birthday party and Dad just backhanded me for no reason. Dad started beating me up for being gay before I even knew that’s what I was. Before I even knew what being gay even meant.” 

Flint looks out the window, face void of emotions. Ever the perfect soldier. Alex looks at the therapist and throws his hands up. He’s trying, but he can’t work with a brick wall. Greg had told him that Flint was ready to work through things, but clearly not. 

“Why don’t we pause this for a minute and try listening,” she says. 

Alex nods and Flint doesn’t say anything, which they take as an agreement. 

“Greg, you told me that you’re ready to talk to your brothers about what it was like for you growing up in your house,” she says with an encouraging smile. 

Greg sits up in his chair and moves around uncomfortably. 

“This is a safe space, if you’re ready,” she reminds him. 

Alex reaches over to place his hand over Greg’s fidgeting one. Flint has stopped staring out the window and is looking at Greg with genuine interest. Greg nods and takes a steadying breath. 

“I guess I had a much different experience than both of you did,” he says, his voice a bit shaky, which only makes Alex hold his hand tighter. “I remember being young, like really young. I was awake and out of bed, I don’t even remember why. But I remember being on the stairs and hearing all of this yelling. Mom was crying. And I don’t remember all the details because it was so long ago, but I can distinctly remember seeing her backed into the corner and Dad towering over her…” 

Greg has to pause to collect himself. They are all holding their breaths, waiting to hear what Greg has to say. Alex only just found out about his dad’s abuse towards his mom at Christmas. He’d assumed Greg learned about it when he left the Navy and started talking to Mom again. He had no idea that Greg had ever witnessed it. He never said anything. Not once. 

“Like I said, it’s all a blur. But I remember feeling helpless. Like I knew that I should intervene. I wanted to protect her so badly, but I just couldn’t for some reason.” 

Greg looks over at Alex and there’s an apology in his eyes that brings a lump to Alex’s throat. 

“You were a kid,” Alex says in understanding. 

“The night before Mom left, I heard them arguing again. I knew she was planning to leave, but I did nothing. I just lay there. I wanted her to leave. I wanted her to be free,” he admits and Alex can read the shame because it’s a feeling he’s all too familiar with himself. “I know that Mom leaving was the worst thing that’s ever happened to you two… but it was one of the best things that ever happened to me. For two whole years, I didn’t have to live in fear that one day my home was going to host a murder. And then he hit you.”

They are all silent for several minutes after that, processing Greg’s confession. It’s a lot. Alex still hasn’t finished digesting the news that his mom was a victim of his dad’s abuse, and now he finds out that his brother has been living with that secret for most of their lives. 

He’s not sure how to respond to it all, but he wants to be able to comfort Greg in some way. And, there is one thing he said that Alex is able to respond to. 

“I lost my leg to an IED and was forced to play dead for over an hour while I waited for rescue. Mom leaving doesn’t even come close to the worst thing that’s happened to me these days,” he admits. 

“Do you always have to try and one up us?” Flint asks with an annoyed look that is so reminiscent of childhood that it tugs at Alex’s heart. 

“It’s not hard,” Alex says. The room is silent for a breath before they slowly start breaking out in laughter. It’s what they’d needed to lighten the mood and let their guards down enough to actually talk. 

“Seriously, Greg,” Alex says, after they’ve all calmed down from a healthy round of giving each other shit. “You were a child. I don’t blame you for not standing up back then. I never have. And even if I did, you have more than made up for it since then. You need to forgive yourself.” 

“I’m working on it,” Greg admits. He sends Alex a grateful look before turning to Flint, who is lost in thought. They watch as Flint works through his thoughts, then eventually nods. 

“Alex is right,” Flint says. “My issues have never been with you.” 

Flint turns to look at Alex. “Or you.” 

****

Alex sits back in the booth, enjoying watching Forrest interact with Harrison, Forrest’s old buddy who’s been stationed in Korea for the last two years. They’ve driven up to Albuquerque for the day to be able to see Harrison while he’s at Kirtland between deployments. Forrest is relaxed around Harrison. Not that he’s not usually relaxed. One of the best things about Forrest is how he takes everything in stride and is rare to rile. But this is different. There’s a new energy around Forrest right now that Alex has never seen. He can’t really explain it. But it’s nice. 

He tunes out as Harrison asks Forrest how his book is going. Alex has already spent the entire drive up here listening to Forrest complain about editors and his agent. His book was finished a few weeks ago and it’s currently in the editing process. He’s working with his agent to figure out what his next project should be. 

Instead, Alex turns to his phone, where Flint has just texted him. 

Flint (4:34pm): I got my date. 

Alex sighs and tries not to feel immediate dread. They’d known Flint was going to be court martialed now that he’s finally been released from the hospital, but a part of Alex was holding out hope. He’d been praying that the Army would forgo a court martial in favor of sweeping the entire incident under the rug and pretending none of it had happened. It’s what the Air Force had done after his court martial over the summer. 

Obviously that had been naive. 

Alex (4:35pm): I got through mine, you can get through yours. 

Flint (4:37pm): The Army is all I know. 

Alex refrains from telling him if the uniform is so important to him, he should have worked harder to uphold its values. It wouldn’t be fair. Flint may still not be able to see the entire situation clearly, but he’d been manipulated and emotionally blackmailed by their father. Flint was brainwashed into thinking that the aliens were terrorists who needed to be dealt with. Alex isn’t sure that the truth will be much better for Flint. Once he realizes that the aliens were just refugees in need of help, he’s going to have to live with the full weight of his actions. 

Alex (4:40pm): Greg has already promised to put a roof over your head and help you find a job on the rez. 

Flint (4:41pm): If I’m not sent to Leavenworth. 

If he’s not sent to Leavenworth. There’s a very real possibility that Flint is going to be sentenced. He’s certainly guilty, and the only man who could have taken the fall is already dead. They just have to hope that the Army is able to see the situation for what it is and place the majority of the blame where it belongs: at his dad’s feet. 

Alex (4:43pm): Greg and I are ready to testify on your behalf. 

Flint (4:44pm): Great. 

Alex doesn’t need to see his brother to know that comment is dripping with sarcasm, but Alex doesn’t hold it against him. Even if he isn’t sent to jail, he’s going to be dishonorably discharged at minimum. Flint isn’t like him.The military is a job for Alex. For Flint, it’s his entire identity. 

Forrest glances over his shoulder to see who he’s texting. Once he realizes who it is, he places his hand on his thigh and gives it a comforting squeeze. He turns back to his conversation with Harrison, silently giving Alex permission to continue texting his brother despite the fact that both of them believe that the table is not the place for cell phones. 

Alex (4:45pm): I’ll come over tomorrow. Help talk you through the whole process. 

Flint (4:48pm): Thanks. 

Alex pockets his phone again and turns his attention back to the table. Forrest sends him a look to ask if he’s alright and Alex nods. 

“Sorry, family stuff,” he explains to Harrison, not wanting him to think that he’s rude. “What were we talking about?” 

“I was telling Forrest about my next deployment. I just got new orders. I’ll be shipping out to Germany in three weeks,” he explains. 

“You headed to Ramstein?” Alex asks. Harrison nods. 

“I spent a few weeks there. Well, basically. I was at Landstuhl for a few weeks before they stabilized me enough to get me stateside.” 

“Yeah, Forrest told me about your leg,” Harrison says as Forrest leans in to Alex. 

“I told him it was incredibly hot,” Forrest says before kissing Alex. 

Harrison coughs before standing up. “I’m gonna go get us another round.” 

Alex watches him cautiously, trying to figure out what just happened, but having a sinking feeling he already knows. 

“I just assumed with how close you two are that—” 

“Don’t worry about him,” Forrest cuts him off, rolling his eyes. 

It’s weird though. Forrest has never striked Alex as the kind of guy to be best friends with a homophobe. 

“Seriously,” Forrest says, knocking shoulders with him. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just bitter about a breakup.” 

Alex decides to take Forrest’s word for it and lets it go. Harrison comes back with another round of drinks for them and wearing a big smile as if nothing happened. 

“So what do they really have you doing in Roswell? Seems a waste for an Air Force Cross recipient to be babysitting empty real estate,” Harrison asks once they’ve settled back in with their drinks. 

“I do security,” he says, not giving up more than that. His role with the Air Force is still classified, though that always makes his job sound far more exciting than it actually is. 

“You’re out of Cannon?” 

Alex nods. 

“Pretty big commute from Roswell everyday.” 

Harrison is clearly fishing and Alex is careful not to give any indication that the line of questioning makes him suspicious. 

“Stop interrogating my boyfriend, asshole,” Forrest says with a laugh, putting his arm around Alex’s shoulder.

“Oh come on,” Harrison says with an easy laugh. “I’m just trying to get the gossip. It’s fairly common knowledge that they’re working to get Walker back up and running, even if the project is classified for some reason. You can’t blame me for wanting confirmation on Area 51.” 

Alex shakes his head and visibly relaxes at that. Harrison doesn’t know anything, he’s just curious like everyone always is whenever they find out where he’s from. 

“Area 51 is in Nevada, first of all. And I think if aliens were real and we had them locked up in some secret base for the last 70 years, the secret would’ve found its way out by now.” The lie is effortless for Alex. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Harrison says.

“He loves a good conspiracy theory,” Forrest explains.

“You mean like Nazi spies being hidden away on a farm?” Alex teases. 

“That’s not a conspiracy. Its historical fact.” 

“So a conspiracy theorist is best friends with a historian,” Alex says. “That’s an interesting combination.” 

“Nah, it’s good,” Forrest says. “I help keep him from getting too far down the Illuminati path and he reminds me to be critical of every source.” 

****

The next morning, Alex is sitting in the car while Harrison and Forrest have a private goodbye. Alex’s phone goes off and he grabs it from the dash. His mom has sent Flint and him a picture of the two of them from Alex’s 2nd birthday. Flint has both of his arms around Alex and is licking his cake covered cheek while Alex is wearing a smile a mile wide. 

Mindy (9:23am): You two used to be inseparable <3 

Sometimes it feels like Flint and he have always been at odds, but Alex does have vague memories of what things used to be like. Back before their father shattered every happy memory Alex had of family and home. 

Flint (9:25am): Maybe I just really liked cake. 

Alex is surprised to see the response from Flint. His mom has been texting all of them more regularly and Alex is doing his best to respond even though he still hasn’t called her since Christmas. But Flint? As far as Alex is aware, this is the first time that Flint has spoken to his mom since she left. 

He can’t help the goofy grin that comes over him. 

Alex (9:26am): Nah, you hate vanilla. You just loved me. Who could blame you ;) 

Flint (9:27am): Says the boy who used to try and be me. 

Well, that’s true enough. Alex always had looked up to Flint and wanted to be just like him. How quickly things change. 

Alex (9:28am): I was young. What did I know? 

Mindy (9:30am): I’m glad you boys are still there for each other. 

Alex is tempted to contradict her, but is shocked to see Flint’s response. 

Flint (9:31am): Yeah. Me too. 

There’s an unexpected lump in his throat as he lets Flint’s words really sink in. Plenty of people have teased him for believing in redemption, and there are times he, too, thinks it’s the naive wish of a kid still clinging to the idea of family. But he kept pushing forward. He kept trying. 

Alex (9:34am): Always. 

The car door opening snaps Alex out of what could easily be an emotional spiral for him, and the slight breeze that accompanies it is incredibly welcome. 

“You okay?” Forrest asks him, eyeing him carefully. It’s then that Alex realizes that he’d been close to crying. 

Alex shakes his head to divest himself of the heavy emotions and smiles instead. “Yeah. I’m good actually. Really good.” 

“Good,” Forrest agrees, reaching over to take Alex’s hand as Alex puts the car in drive and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“So, that was the famous Harrison.” 

Forrest gives a shaky laugh that catches Alex’s attention. 

“Are _you_ okay?” he asks. 

Forrest shifts around in his seat and when Alex glances over, he’s surprised to see that Forrest looks both incredibly exhausted and confused. He lets out a deep sigh and rubs his hands over his face. 

“Hey,” Alex says, in what he hopes is a comforting tone. “Talk to me.” 

“Harrion came out,” Forrest says quietly, more like he’s saying it to himself, trying to believe it. 

“He’s gay?” Alex asks, shocked. He hadn’t gotten that impression from him. In fact, his reaction to Alex and Forrest kissing led Alex to believe he was homophobic. 

Forrest looks like his whole world has just been snatched from under him and Alex tries to understand what’s going on. 

“You didn’t know?” he asks, though even that wouldn’t explain Forrest’s reaction. Forrest is the last person that would care if his friend is gay. He’s the guy who doesn’t believe in closets. 

“I did. I just… he was never public with it,” Forrest explains. 

Alex gets that. God, does he get that. It still doesn’t explain what’s going on here. 

“Are you okay?” Alex is genuinely concerned. He’s never seen Forrest like this. 

“What?” That seems to snap Forrest out of whatever is going on. He sits up in his seat and shakes his head. “Yeah. No. It’s good. I’m happy for him. He was in the closet for a long time. I just never thought he’d actually come out.” 

Alex keeps one eye on the road as he tries to search Forrest’s face for any indication of what’s wrong. He can’t find anything. 

“Well Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell may be gone but it’s still terrifying to be out in the military,” he says. Maybe Forrest is just struggling to understand what took Harrison so long. 

“Yeah, but I was out,” he says. “Once DADT was repealed, you came out.” 

Alex shrugs. He told people he was gay, sure, but he still wasn’t really out. In all of his years in the service, he’d never once acted on any of his feelings. He’d been too terrified. Of his father finding out. Of his squadron turning on him. The only time he ever acted on anything was whenever he was on leave and could sneak out to be with Michael. 

Well, before Forrest, that is. 

“I still followed a ‘Tell But Don’t Act’ policy,” he admits. 

Forrest rolls his eyes and Alex gets defensive. 

“Not everyone comes from a happy, well adjusted home like yours,” he says. “For a lot of us, we have to work hard to be comfortable with who we are.” 

Forrest lets out another sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to belittle your process. Or his.” 

Alex nods his head, easily forgiving him. 

Forrest reaches over to squeeze his thigh. “I’m proud of you, you know?” 

“Yeah?” Alex has to work hard not to blush. 

“Watching you come into your own this year, I feel like…” Forrest pauses, struggling to find words, which isn’t like him. “It’s hot.” 

Alex can tell it’s not what he wanted to say, but he doesn’t push. 

“It’s great that Harrison feels comfortable going public now,” Alex comments. He wouldn’t wish a closet on anybody. 

“Yeah,” Forrest says, turning to stare out the window with a longing look on his face that Alex can’t read. “Great.” 

****

Alex steps off the stage after performing his song and walks over to where Greg is sitting with Isobel. 

Greg pats his back and tells him he enjoyed his song while Isobel holds out her phone to show him a picture she’d taken of him. 

“You look hot in this,” she tells him. 

Alex blushes, but even he has to admit that it’s a good picture. He’s relaxed in it, in a way he isn’t usually. It’s weird, but kind of cool. Reminds Alex a bit of the guy he used to be, but not quite. Even at 17 he hadn’t been happy. Not completely. 

Is that what he’s looking at? Himself, happy? 

No. Happy isn’t the right word for it. 

Content. Alex is content, and it’s kind of amazing. 

Greg reaches out to grab Isobel’s wrist and turns her phone so he can see. 

“You know, this actually reminds me of that picture of you where Granddad is teaching you the drums,” Greg tells him, turning the phone back for Alex to look at the picture closer. “You’ve got that same smile.” 

“I forgot about that picture,” Alex says, wistfully. 

“Mom has it hanging up in her place,” Greg explains. “You should send this to her. She’d like it.” 

“Oh, and you should send her the song, too,” Isobel says. “Greg recorded it on his phone.” 

Alex shakes his head. “That song wasn’t for her.” 

“But it’s about her,” Isobel says, confused. 

Alex doesn’t attempt to explain that his music isn’t written as a conversation. He writes for himself. To make sense of the world around him. To heal. 

“I’ll send her the picture,” he says, effectively ending whatever argument Isobel is about to make. Especially because her eyes keep drifting to where Max and Michael are at the pool table and he just knows she’s going to say something to him about it. 

He’s saved from any further nagging from Isobel by Forrest. 

“Can we talk?” Forrest asks, and Alex’s stomach drops. Forrest has been quiet all night and whenever Alex tries to ask about it, he’s changed the subject. 

“Don’t you have to run this?” Alex points at the stage where Open Mic Night is still going strong. 

“I got someone to cover for me,” he says, then gestures to the door. Alex nods. He places some money on the table to cover his portion of the bill before following Forrest out. 

****

“I’m not asking you to come with me,” Forrest says to him. 

Alex wants to be able to tell him that he would. That he loves him and would go anywhere in the world with him, if only he asked… But they both know the truth. Alex’s home is in Roswell. His heart is in Roswell. 

“I’m sorry,” Alex says, because it feels like he should, even though Forrest hasn’t said that he’s mad at him for anything. 

“Don’t apologize. I always knew you were never meant to be in my orbit forever,” he says. “It didn’t stop me from enjoying you while I had you.” 

It makes Alex feel like shit. He’s been dating Forrest for nearly a year and Alex can’t even bring himself to cry when his boyfriend tells him that he’s moving. Forrest continues to be unfailing kind, even in their breakup, and Alex is positive that he doesn’t deserve it. 

“Do you really have to leave?” It’s the third time he’s asked this question, but he keeps hoping that maybe the answer has changed. He kicks at the sand and watches how it catches in the wind, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“My book is done,” he says, reaching out to hold Alex’s hand. “I’ve gotten everything out of this town that I was looking for.” 

It feels like they are talking about more than just his book. 

Alex looks up at him. “You sure about that?” 

“When I came here, I was searching for a lot of answers,” Forrest explains, and Alex sits up taller, listening carefully. “I knew who I was, but I didn’t… I never expected to find you, but I’m glad I did. And I’ve been honored to stand by your side and watch you figure out who you are. I’ve learned so much just watching you on your journey.” 

Alex nods. His eyes start to well up as he processes just how lucky he’s been to have somebody like Forrest at his side the last several months. So much of the man he’s become is in part due to the support he found in Forrest. 

“Where will you go?” Alex asks. 

“Germany.” 

Alex nods. It makes sense. Forrest has spent this year writing a book on Nazis. 

“Kaiserslautern,” he clarifies, knocking shoulders with him and giving him a smile like he’s letting Alex in on a secret. 

“Ramstein?” Alex asks, surprised before he realizes what’s going on. “Harrison.” 

Forrest shrugs, but his smile is soft, letting him know that he’s read the situation correctly. 

Alex lets out a laugh, finding he’s not mad. 

“You love him,” he says, knowing it’s true. Hadn’t he said himself that Forrest was a different person around Harrison? Hadn’t he noticed how much happier Forrest was? 

“We were together for four years,” Forrest explains. 

“Damn.” And here Alex was thinking how impressive it was, the two of them almost making it a year. 

“I think it’s finally our time.” 

Alex is happy for him. Truly. He grabs onto Forrest’s hand and pulls it into his lap so he can hug his arm and lean his head on his shoulder. 

“You realize you’re going to have to start using Ista now, right? Because I’m going to need pictures,” Alex says. 

“No, I refuse to fall into the social media mind fuck,” Forrest says. “But I promise to email you updates.” 

Alex hums happily and allows himself to enjoy the moment. This is probably going to be the last time that he’s with Forrest and he wants to remember exactly how it feels to be with somebody so open and honestly. He’s going to miss him. He may not be in love with Forrest — and he now knows Forrest was never in love with him either — but they do have love for one another. Forrest is a good guy and Alex is going to miss having him around. 

The door swings open and Alex looks up to see Max and Michael coming out of the bar, the two of them laughing loudly about something. Michael smiles and waves at the two of them before turning his attention back to Max. 

Alex’s eyes follow Michael as they walk towards his truck. Max gets into the passenger side seat and Michael teases him about the role reversal — Michael playing designated driver for once. Alex can’t help but smile. He used to watch Michael when they were younger, well before they’d become a thing. So Alex can confidently say that he hasn’t seen the two of them so comfortable around each other since high school. It’s been a slow process and Alex knows that it’s taken a lot of difficult conversations to get them here, but Alex is happy for Michael. After over a decade of trauma, he has his siblings back. 

He watches the truck until it’s no longer visible, and that’s when Forrest nudges him with his elbow. Alex lifts his head to look up at him. 

“Promise me something,” Forrest says. 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t go backwards.” 

Alex shakes his head. He’s not planning on it. He’s got his eyes firmly on the road ahead. Therapy has taught him a lot, but perhaps nothing more important than putting his energy on what’s next instead of what’s behind him. 

“You’ve got your own voice and it’s sexy as hell,” Forrest tells him. “Keep moving forward.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, laying his head back on his shoulder and looking after Michael again, despite his truck being long gone. 

“I expect you to mourn me fully. You know, at least a week of bad rom coms in bed followed by you penning no less than two breakup songs,” Forrest teases him. 

Alex laughs. “Aren’t breakups supposed to involve a lot more yelling and crying?” 

He’s never been in a real relationship, so he can’t be sure. But he’s certainly talked enough people through their own breakups to know they aren’t typically this kind. 

“Nah, I’ve never been one for tradition,” Forrest says. “But seriously, once you’ve had some time, you should ask Michael out.” 

Alex drops Forrest’s arm and sits up. “What happened to keep moving forward?” 

“Moving forward doesn’t have to mean leaving the people you love behind,” he explains, standing up and brushing his dusty hands off on his jeans. 

Alex sends him a disbelieving look. 

“What can I say, I’m a romantic.” He holds out his hand and helps Alex to his feet. 

“Since when?” Alex teases and follows Forrest towards his car. Forrest just smiles and Alex doesn’t need an explanation to know what’s changed for Forrest. His heart aches, but in a good way. He’s glad. “I like Harrison for you.” 

“And I like Michael for you.” 

They reach Forrest’s car. Forrest leans against the driver’s door and stares at Alex. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he whispers, nervous all of a sudden. 

Forrest puts a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody is ever sure they are ready. Look at me, I’m scared as hell to be moving to Germany for a man. It’s insane. But when you find somebody who you love and trust, it’s easier to take that leap together.” 

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Alex says, pulling him in for a hug. If nothing else, Forrest has become one of his closest friends. He isn’t sure what he’ll do without his regular advice and gentle prodding. 

“This isn’t a goodbye,” Forrest says, giving him an extra tight squeeze before pulling away. “Take care of yourself. I expect regular updates. I’m too invested, I need to know how your story ends.” 

“You, too.” 

Alex holds the door open for Forrest and waits until he’s all buckled in before he closes the door. He steps away and tries not to cry as Forrest pulls out of the parking lot and drives out of his life. 

Moving forward doesn’t have to mean leaving the people you love behind, he reminds himself. 

His phone dings and he pulls it out of his pocket to see that Isobel has texted him the picture she’d taken tonight. It feels like days ago, but in reality it’s been less than an hour. 

He saves the picture to his phone and pulls up his text messages, intent on sharing the picture with his mom like he’d promised. He pauses as he types “Mindy.” It doesn’t feel right. Not anymore. He opens up her contact info and deletes her name, instead typing, “Mom.” He stares at it for a while, letting it really sink in. It’s scary, but it feels right. He’s still not ready to see her, or even call her, but it’s a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love <3


	5. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter has a short scene that mentions violence against a transwoman. I know that this will be triggering for some, even if it's not descriptive or violent. I debated cutting the scene, but I felt it was important for us to see Alex react to that before going into the next scene. That being said, I purposefully put several spaces after that scene before the next so it would be easy to skip past. If you need to skip ahead, please do. 
> 
> Also, I changed the rating to mature to be safe, mostly cause of the allusions to violence but also because the boys all swear. A lot.

Alex watches the news in horror as they report on a murder of a woman at UNM. The murder of a transwoman. The entire report makes him physically ill and every time they say the word bash, he can feel his PTSD threatening to trigger. He should really turn it off, but he can’t. 

Instead, he alternates between sitting back and covering his face and leaning forward, needing to hear more. 

“Um… are you okay?” Flint asks, walking into the room with their morning coffee. When he reaches out to touch Alex’s shoulder, Alex shoots up and immediately starts looking around for a threat. 

Flint holds his arms up in apology, and Alex can see the concern on his face. 

“I have to do something,” he says. 

“Okay,” Flint agrees, sitting down on the couch. “What?” 

“I don’t know!” He throws his arms out, frustrated. “March? Protest? Start a fucking riot? Flint, UNM tried to cover this up. The police destroyed evidence. The news keeps using her dead name! I mean what the hell kind of world are we even living in right now? This is systemic. It needs to stop. And if I have to burn this shit to the ground to put an end to it, I will.” 

“Okay.” Flint nods, clearly taken back. “You didn’t know him though, right?” 

“Her.” He glares at his brother. “Have some respect and get her fucking pronouns right.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He looks it, too, so Alex decides not to murder his brother as his first act of protest. “This is all new to me.” 

Alex pinches the bridge of his nose. Flint is one of the most offensive people he knows, but he’s trying to do better. And that’s what counts right? So there’s his first task. Educating his idiot brother. 

Alex sits down on the coffee table in front of Flint with a heavy sigh. His brother holds out his coffee to him and Alex takes it. 

“You know, in all our years growing up, I never once heard you get passionate about an issue,” Flint says, sipping his own coffee. 

“Yeah, cause Dad would’ve beat the shit out of me,” Alex says with a laugh, though he finds little humor in it.   
“So, we’re upset about the murder?” Flint asks, giving Alex permission to continue his rant. 

“This didn’t happen in some backwater creek in Louisiana. This happened in New Mexico. She was murdered three hours from here. She grew up 30 minutes away. Fuck.” 

“Maybe I should grab some whiskey for the coffee?” Flint suggests. “Or Greg? Greg would be much better at this than me.” 

“I don’t need a drink,” he snaps. “I need this transphobic, homophobic bullshit to stop happening.” 

“I mean, I get that this is bad,” Flint says. “But this isn’t normal. Things are good for you guys right? You got the right to marry. You can be out and in the military.”

Flint gives him a look as if to say, ‘what more do you need?’ Alex has never wanted to strangle Flint more in his life. 

“You’re right. Greg _would_ be better at this.” 

Flint agrees and pulls out his phone. “I’ll call him.” 

****

When Alex organized this local protest, he honestly didn’t expect anyone to come. The LGBTQIA+ community in Roswell isn’t massive. And even then, Alex is fairly disconnected from the entire scene himself. So when he looks out at the crowd of people on the street outside of City Hall and sees just how many people have come out to show their support, he’s shocked. 

A few days ago, Alex had posted a passionate call for justice on his Facebook. He’d been surprised to see how many views and likes it had gotten, but didn’t think too much about it. He chalked it up to performative justice and considered it a minor win, though he knew a popular social media post would do little to change practices and policies. Roswell is, after all, deeply red and very against progress and change. He used to say that Roswell never met an oppressive policy it didn’t like. 

And yet, he can’t deny the crowd out here today. Sure, a thousand people in a city of nearly fifty thousand is only 2%, but it’s 2% more people than he thought he’d get. And it’s a large enough crowd to have attracted the local press. It’s a large enough crowd that it’s possible they’ll be able to get the mayor to actually sit down with them. 

Greg isn’t surprised. He’d reminded Alex that the town threw a whole parade for him when he got back from Iraq, but Alex hadn’t really thought much of that. They’d celebrated a war hero, not him. They hadn’t really known him, because he didn’t let people know him. He’d always been sure the moment he let anyone see his whole self, that people would hate him. And yet, there’s a thousand people in this crowd because he asked them to come and they did. It feels good. 

Alex is sitting on the steps of the library, a few doors down from City Hall. He’d said his piece already and now he’s enjoying a moment away. 

“Well damn,” he hears a familiar voice and he looks up to see Michael walking his way. 

Alex has to work extra hard not to let his jaw drop at the sight of him. Michael is standing there in the well worn jeans that Alex loves… and nothing else. His bare chest has the trans flag painted on it. There’s a pair of rainbow sunglasses on his head. His usual cowboy belt buckle has been traded in for one with the bi-flag. 

Clearly Alex doesn’t have to say anything, because Michael holds out his arms and does a little twirl. That’s when Alex notices that his back is painted with the words, ‘Trans rights are human rights.’ 

“I know. You can’t put me in a box,” Michael says with a grin. 

There’s pretty much no look that Michael has ever rocked that Alex hasn’t been attracted to… but this one does something to him that he can’t talk about in polite company. 

“Aren’t you worried that people will see you?” he asks. He’s never gotten the impression that Michael is open about his sexuality.

Michael scoffs. “Fuck people. Are you still worried people are going to see you?” 

“Well no. Not really,” he says, which earns him a smile that Alex can only describe as proud. 

Michael moves to sit down next to him and it doesn’t escape Alex’s notice that he decides to sit so close that they are touching from ankle all the way up to shoulder. There’s plenty of space. The stairs are as wide as the entire building, and few people are sitting here. But Alex isn’t going to say anything. 

“I’m sick of people assuming things about me,” Michael says. “And I’m through with secrets. I never wanted to be in the closet.” 

Alex bites his lip in shame and looks down at the ground. Alex hears what Michael is too polite to say. Alex is the reason that Michael was in that closet. They’d never talked about it when they were kids and first started fooling around. Alex kept it private because he was scared of his dad and he’d just blindly assumed that Michael hadn’t wanted anyone to know either. 

“Well I think you look great,” Alex says, earning him a smile. 

“Max and Isobel are here. If you think my outfit is hilarious, you should see Max.” 

“I don’t think your outfit is hilarious,” he says and instantly wants to kick himself for how breathy it comes out. 

“No?” Michael asks, eyes slowly looking Alex up and down, checking him out. 

“No.” He shakes his head, entranced by Michael’s lips. He’s about to lean in when he thinks better of it and moves back out of Michael’s personal space. 

“You look…” He’s about to say hot, because it’s true. Michael looks like a good and proper snack. Especially when Alex is now close enough to see the sweat building on his body. It reminds him of nights spent licking that sweat from his chest… But inappropriate lusting aside, hot doesn’t really describe Michael properly. 

“You look happy,” he finishes. 

Michael blushes and ducks his head before looking back at him and nodding. “I am. I feel good. Free. Angry as fuck and ready to burn this opressive shit to the ground, but happy.” 

Alex laughs at that. He knows the feeling. He’s pissed too. He’s angry as hell that they even have to protest a murder. That they have to convince people that trans people and anyone in the LGBTQIA+ community has a right to something as basic as life. But being here is also empowering. It feels good to be his whole self in a crowd of people and not care. 

“I thought your days of eyeliner were past.” 

Alex smiles and leans in with his eyes closed so Michael can get the full effect. Rosa had done an excellent job of painting pink and blue eyeliner on him this morning. She’d even added mascara to enhance the look. In all of Alex’s goth experimental phase, he’d never bothered with the stuff, but he’s loving how it makes his eyes pop. 

“Nice,” Michael says. He places his elbows on the stairs behind him and leans back comfortably. The sun makes his chest practically glisten. Not that Alex is staring at his ex-boyfriend’s chest. That would be inappropriate. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” Michael continues. “Whenever I would see you in your fatigues, I always really missed the eyeliner and the nose ring. You’re hot when you’re all soldiered up but also…” 

“Suppressed?” 

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “It wasn’t you. And a part of me always thought one day you’d find your way back to that 17 year old you that I fell in love with again. But I was wrong.” 

Alex’s stomach drops. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Michael sits back up and he has that stupidly attractive smirk on his face that doesn’t match up with the rejection Alex can feel coming. “Cause this?” Michael pulls at his Air Force t-shirt. “Mixed with this?” He brushes the back of his fingers along his cheekbone where Rosa had added a faint glitter highlight. “It’s like the best of every Alex.”

It’s Alex’s turn to blush. He moves to turn his face away, but Michael holds him in place and refuses to let him look away. 

“I really like this version of you.” 

Alex smiles and is rewarded with a much more rare, genuine smile from Michael as well. God, Michael is always at his most beautiful like this. When he’s soft and open, free of the mile high wall he builds to keep people out. 

“I have a question though.” Alex raises his eyebrows, indicating that he should continue. “Why now?” 

“What do you mean?” he asks, confused by the question. 

“You’ve never spoken up before, which isn’t a criticism. I know what you had to deal with growing up so I get it. But you’ve never so much as attended a Pride parade. What changed?” Michael asks. 

Alex takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He looks out at the crowd of people on the street and thinks about how pissed off this entire thing would have made his father. He can practically hear the lecture on decorum and the proper way to present himself as an airman. The fact that Alex is wearing makeup and leading a protest while wearing his Air Force shirt would set his dad off. 

And maybe that’s half the appeal. But the truth is, Alex just likes being able to own his power for once. In the same way it feels good to be able to use his position to help protect Michael, Isobel, and Max, using his position as a war hero to put a spotlight on an issue that matters feels good. 

“I guess I just got sick of being a robot,” he says honestly. “I have a voice and want to use it.”

“Well you used it today,” Michael says with a whistle. “And damn was it impressive.” 

Mrs. Peterson, their high school English teacher, thankfully interrupts them to say hi before Alex has to figure out how to respond to Michael’s compliment. 

“Do you think she remembers that she hated me?” Alex asks through his smile and wave. 

“Not nearly as much as she hated me,” Michael says, not bothering to wave back. 

“That’s cause you told her English was useless,” he says with a laugh once she leaves. 

“I was going to school to be an engineer, what did I need poetry for?” 

“Song lyrics?” Alex says. 

Michael opens his mouth to respond, but stops himself. His gaze goes soft and Alex waits with bated breath for what he says next. After a minute of looking intensely at each other, Michael seems to shake it off and Alex grows disappointed. He wishes he could know what Michael is thinking. He feels like they’ve been dancing around each other for weeks, ever since Forrest left, but nothing ever happens. 

“So, is part of you owning your power wearing shorts now?” Michael asks. 

Alex looks down at his leg and has the fleeting thought of covering it up, but catches himself. Michael has seen his leg multiple times and he _had_ worn shorts on purpose. Had to go out and buy a pair actually, since he actively avoids them because he doesn’t like people seeing his leg and treating him differently. 

Alex tries to figure out how to explain that he felt compelled to remind people that under his makeup he’s still an Iraq war vet. They won’t be able to ignore him easily. 

“It completed the look,” he says, hoping Michael understands what he means. He nods and Alex thinks he actually might. 

“So what about you?” Alex asks, knocking shoulders with him. “I thought you wanted people to believe you didn’t care about the world enough to save it.” 

Michael rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why Max said that.” 

Alex gives him a look and Michael relents. “Alright, fine, maybe I do. But I was traumatized that summer. Of course my life became a shit show. I was a kid with nobody to lean on. I had no parents. I couldn’t look at Max without seeing it. I couldn’t talk to Isobel because she thought I was a murderer and you…” 

Michael trails off but Alex doesn’t need him to finish the sentence to hear the words. Alex left. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, which earns him a surprised look. “I bailed on you when you needed me the most. I didn’t understand what was going on. And the violence that surrounded you wasn’t something I was equipped to handle, so I left.” 

“You left for war,” Michael says with misty eyes. “And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” 

“You were locked up,” he reminds him. “A part of me has always wondered if you got arrested that day on purpose.” 

“Maybe I did,” Michael says quietly. He clears his throat and continues before Alex can respond. “In AA they make you take inventory of every person that you’ve ever harmed. And I was stuck on that step for awhile, because I honestly felt like it was everyone else that had always harmed me, you know? Abusive homes. Shitty teachers. Police officers who never intervened. Your dad. You.” 

Alex feels the sting of that and shifts around uncomfortably and tries not to react too strongly. He’d wanted Michael to start being more honest and open with him.

“I’m starting to recognize my own fault in things,” Micheal admits. “Nobody made me take the blame for murdering those girls. And Max isn’t to blame for so many years of secrets, I could have told the truth to people if I wanted to.” 

“And me?” 

“You didn’t leave Roswell because of me,” he says. “And it was unfair of me to punish you by not giving you a goodbye. I guess at the time, I was terrified of the idea of you leaving me. I thought it would be easier to handle if I didn’t have to say goodbye.”

Alex nods. He gets that. Hadn’t he known Michael had abandonment issues, even before the whole ‘left on a strange planet to fend for yourself’ thing? 

“I was an idiot,” Michael says. “I hurt both of us pretty bad. I used to have nightmares that you were gonna get killed overseas and that you’d die not knowing how much I loved you.” 

“I feared the same thing,” Alex whispers, not wanting to break the moment. 

“I don’t want to keep pushing you away,” Michael says, leaning in so that he can rest his forehead against Alex’s. 

“So don’t.” 

“I told you before that I never said no to you and that’s why I needed to step away. Because I wanted to be good for somebody and I didn’t think we were good for each other,” Michael says, as if Alex needs the reminder. “I think that was right at the time. I needed to learn how to make my own choices and speak up for what I want. So I needed to learn how to say no, before I could say yes.” 

Alex holds his breath as Michael continues. 

“I want you, Alex.” 

Alex reaches up and places his hand against Michael’s heart, feeling the tears come. And in that moment, it doesn’t matter that anybody could look over and see him. Because his therapist had been right. Here Michael is, open and vulnerable. He’s showing his heart and it’s not ugly or shameful, it’s beautiful. Alex has spent his life repressing every emotion, and for what? 

“I want you, too.” 

Alex leans in to kiss him but Micahel pulls back. 

“I need some things out of this relationship if it’s going to work,” he says. 

Alex nods. He’ll give him anything, if he’ll just stay.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t leave when things get hard.”

Alex shakes his head. “I won’t. Never again.” 

Michael leans back in to rest his forehead against his own again and his hands grab a fistfull of Alex’s shirt, holding him in place. As if Alex would ever again leave willingly. 

“What do you need?” Michael asks. 

It’s a weird question that takes him a moment to answer. He’s not used to his feelings being considered. Though, that’s not entirely fair. Michael used to always consider him. Prior to Maria, Michael had always put his needs first. But then, as Alex had finally realized that he wanted Michael more than anything, Maria had happened. And after a few weeks of trying to be friends, Michael had stopped talking to him. 

“I need us to be honest with each other,” he says. 

“I’ve always been honest with you.” 

Alex gives him a look. If Michael had been honest with him from the beginning, if he’d known about the trauma Michael had gone through, things could have been different for them. 

Michael rolls his eyes, but his words are kind when he says, “I’ve always been honest with you about my heart.” 

And that much, Alex will give him. Michael has always worn his heart on his sleeve. Even with the layers of sarcasm and anger, Alex could always see his heart. 

“Okay,” he relents. “Well, I need you to take care of yourself. I worked too hard to get past all my dad’s shit and I can’t live in chaos again.” 

Michael shakes his head, and Alex worries for a moment that he’s asked too much of him, but he knows that he hasn’t. He’s seen Michael be able to put himself first this year and do better, and he needs that to continue. He can’t go back to throwing himself around like he doesn’t matter. 

“I’m trying, but I’m still—” 

Alex cuts him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “That’s all I expect.” 

Michael kisses his finger before Alex drops his hand to his shoulder. 

“I need you to be honest with me, too,” Michael says. “This isn’t going to be easy. We both bring a lot of issues into this relationship. Our default can’t be to walk away. I need you to promise me that you’ll talk to me. Don’t shut me out.” 

“I fight and I get defensive,” Alex whispers. “I’m getting better about it, but I’m not perfect.” 

“I know. That’s all we can do. Try to be better for each other and talk about things when we fail.” 

Alex nods. It sounds so easy when he puts it like that. 

“I don’t want to be a hookup Alex. I need this to be real,” Michael says so quietly that Alex almost misses it with all the noise from the street. 

“I’m ready,” Alex promises. 

Michael’s eyes close at his words and Alex watches any tension leave his body completely. 

“Alex?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m gonna need you to make the first move this time.” 

It’s the easiest thing Michael’s ever asked of him. Alex grabs his face and pulls it towards him so he can kiss him properly. Michael’s arms wrap around him and hold him close. Alex wants more, but is hyper aware of the fact that they are still in public. He pulls away and looks at the crowd. Nobody is staring at them, but that doesn’t mean nobody has seen them. 

He looks back and notices Michael is holding his breath. 

“Are you okay?” Alex asks. 

“Are _you_?” 

It clicks for Alex, instantly. Alex has always been the one to shy away from any kind of public acknowledgement of their relationship. Michael’s not scared of the public reaction, he’s scared of Alex’s reaction. 

“Never been better,” he says with as steady a voice as he can, so that Michael has no room to misinterpret his words. 

Michael watches him for a moment, critical, before he smiles again. 

“Me, too.” Michael kisses him. 

Alex pulls away all too quickly, however, suddenly needing to ask him something. 

“Have you really never wanted to be in the closet?” 

Alex knows that Michael’s self esteem has always been non-existent and if Alex put any shame on Michael, he’s going to feel awful. 

Michael shrugs. 

“We’re being honest, remember?” Alex reminds him. 

“I never really felt the need to come out to anyone. The entire concept is kind of bullshit. But if you’re asking if I ever wanted to hide my feelings for you, then no,” he says without hesitation and it pulls at Alex’s heart. “I’ve wanted to be able to be with you publicly since the moment we first kissed and I realized that humanity wasn’t all bad. I didn’t give a shit who knew.” 

Alex finds it easy to believe Michael. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” he asks, picturing 17 year old Michael and how open and vulnerable he’d been back then. It’s strange to think he didn’t at least tell Max and Isobel. 

“At the time, I was afraid of your dad finding out and hurting you,” Michael admits. “After you left, I guess there wasn’t a point of telling anyone anymore.” 

“And all the times that I came home on leave and we would hook up?” 

Michael shrugs. “I knew that you wanted me to be a secret.” 

Alex shakes his head. “It was never about being ashamed of you.” 

Micahel looks at him doubtfully, and Alex is going to have to work on that. He’s got a lot of work to do if he’s going to erase Michael’s automatic instinct to assume he’s not good enough. 

“I was ashamed of myself and I projected that onto you. I had no right to do that. You’re amazing and any person would be lucky to be with you.” 

“It’s not your fault.” 

This time, it’s Alex’s turn to look doubtful. 

“I mean, I know that I’ve told you it’s your fault. But it’s not. I only said that to hurt you. It’s your dad’s. He made you feel worthless your entire life. Why did I think I was going to undo that at 17 with a handful of stolen kisses?” 

“I love you,” Alex says as clearly as he can. 

“I love you, too.” 

Michael kisses him before standing and holding out his hand to help Alex up. Alex lets Michael lead him down the stairs and enjoys the fact that Michael doesn’t bother letting go of his hand. 

“Did Max really come?” 

Michael smiles and it’s genuine. Alex could wake up everyday to that smile, and it will never be enough. 

Micheal digs his phone out of his pocket and opens up to a picture Liz had texted him of Max, Michael, and Isobel from today. Max is wearing tight rainbow shorts, a tank top that says Ally, a shit ton of glitter, and he’s holding a sign that says: ‘Ex-cop. If your PD won’t enforce your rights, you’re under my protection now.’ 

Alex is shocked. “Wow.”

“I know.” 

“Did you ever think you’d see the day?” Alex asks with a laugh. 

Michael shakes his head and pockets his phone. Alex pulls out his own and opens his photo app before showing Michael the first picture. Kyle is standing in his scrubs, a trans flag on like a cape. He’s holding a sign demanding healthcare for all. He swipes right to a beautiful mural on inclusion that Rosa had somehow done overnight without being caught. He swipes right again and there’s a picture of Flint in his full Army fatigues and Gregory wearing a Navy T-Shirt, both have a pride flag tattooed on each cheek. Flint’s sign says ‘Liberty and justice for all means ALL.’ Greg’s sign states, ‘Don’t ask us to fight for freedom overseas and deny it to your people back home.’ 

“You win,” Michael says, zooming in on Flint’s image to get a better look. 

“He still says more offensive things in an hour than Fox News, but he’s trying so it’s good.” 

Michael hands Alex back his phone and he puts it into his pocket. 

“I owe you an apology,” Michael says. 

“Do you?” Alex reaches out to grab onto both of Michael’s hands. 

“Before you got kidnapped last year, I called you stupid for having faith in people. That wasn’t fair.” 

Alex shrugs. Michael’s words had been pretty harsh to hear, but Alex had been kidnapped by his dad right afterwards, so Michael hadn’t been entirely wrong. 

“People change,” he says. Alex’s eyebrows go up in shock. Never did he think he’d see the day that Michael Guerin ever said that. “Well, I take that back. People don’t change. You change people.” 

It’s been awhile since Michael has given him one of his cheesy lines that makes him absolutely melt, but that’s what this does. 

Alex can’t find the words to respond around the lump in his throat, so instead he cradles Michael’s face in his hands, lovingly. Michael nuzzles into the touch like a cat. He turns his head just so until he’s able to place a kiss to Alex’s thumb. If it’s possible to love him any more than he does at this moment, Alex doesn’t see how. 

“Hey Alex, sorry to interrupt,” Greg says, looking between them with an ever growing smile as he realizes what he’s looking at. 

Alex drops his hands from Michael’s face, but when he feels Michael stiffen, he lets them rest against his chest so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. 

“What’s up?”

Greg’s eyes move back and forth between them for another moment or two and Alex can feel some ribbing coming on, but Greg instead just nods at him in approval. “The uh.. Mayor agreed to see you.” 

Surprised, Alex looks over at Michael, who smiles at him in pride. “Go change the world, Private. I’ll be at the Crashdown. Aruturo is giving free shakes to protestors and I promised Max and Iz I’d meet them there.” 

Alex nods. “I’ll be there.” 

He starts to walk away, but pauses, stepping back and leans into Michael. “Also, it’s Captain, Guerin.” 

He kisses Michael and when he pulls back, he enjoys the way Michael’s eyes darken at that. “See you soon.” 

*****

Alex lays in bed, watching Michael sleep beside him, enjoying the very subtle, quiet snores. He should be sleeping after the exhausting day he’s had of protesting, and especially after the multiple orgasms that Michael gave him, but he can’t manage to close his eyes. He’s still too pumped up on adrenaline. 

He can hear Flint in the living room watching TV. He knows that he could go and join his brother, but there’s not a force on Earth powerful enough to get Alex to leave this bed right now. So instead he lays here, watching, soaking every inch of Michael in, allowing himself to believe that this is real this time. Michael isn’t going to disappear into his rage and leave Alex behind to clean up the mess. Alex isn’t going to get scared and run away. 

Alex reaches out and brushes a stray curl that’s fallen into his precious face. He then caresses his cheek with the barest of touches, not wanting to wake him, but not able to keep from touching him. Michael has always been beautiful, but there’s something different about the way he carries himself now that makes him practically glow.

Alex’s phone chimes and he reluctantly turns away from Michael to grab it off the nightstand. 

_Greg (12:11am): Thought you’d want to see this ;)_

Alex opens the message so that he can see the attachment. When he realizes that Greg’s sent him a link to a Facebook post his mom has made, he nearly closes it without reading. But instead he sits up and shields his heart before opening the link. 

The first thing he notices is that her cover photo is a picture of them all as kids sitting in front of granddad’s loom. Alex bites his lip as he scrolls down to her most recent post. It’s a video of himself speaking at the protest today. Greg must have sent it to her. There’s a caption she’s added to the video and Alex closes his eyes to steady his emotions before he feels brave enough to read. 

_If you are struggling to comprehend why it’s important to understand the issues and vote appropriately, please watch this video of my son, Alex. He is a shining example of love, courage, and strength. Despite the fact that his country hasn’t given him much reason to believe in it, he still fought for each and every one of us overseas at great personal cost and continues to serve. I’m not sure if it’s possible to have a more pure, forgiving heart than Alex, but it’s a quality I admire and strive to have myself._

_To my darling Alex- I didn’t have a hand in raising you. I can’t take credit for the wonderful man you’ve become. But that doesn’t stop me from feeling immensely proud of everything you are. I love you more than I could ever express in words._

Alex doesn’t realize that he’s crying until Michael wraps his arms around him from behind and places comforting kisses on the back of his neck. 

Alex scrolls down to the next post and it’s a picture of Flint and Greg from today with a similar message of support. The next five posts are news articles focused on LGBTQIA+ rights. There’s a fundraiser for disabled vets that’s raised close to a thousand dollars. 

Alex takes several shaky breaths and he feels Michael’s arms get tighter around him, but he keeps looking. For over two hours, Alex scrolls through her Facebook feed, floored to find that his mom has been posting regularly for years about her love for all of them, despite knowing that neither Flint or he were ever going to see the posts. Struggling with the idea that she’s been vocal on her position on LGBTQIA+ rights, child and domestic abuse, ADA civil rights, immigration, and supporting the troops. 

Alex eventually turns off the screen and sets it down, needing to digest this new information and reconcile it with the idea he’s had of who his mother is. 

“She loves you,” Michael whispers, kissing his shoulder. “I can relate.” 

“She’s loved me this whole time,” he says, the words feeling strange to him. He’s still adjusting to this new truth. 

Michael hooks his chin over his shoulder and runs a hand up and down his chest while the other arm keeps him close. 

“Yeah. I think she has.” 

Alex looks over his shoulder to meet Michael’s eyes. 

“Is it enough?” Michael asks.

Alex shakes his head. He doesn’t know. 

“I don’t know why I can find it in me to forgive my dad, but I’m having such a hard time with her,” he admits.

Michael gives him a sad smile. “You’re dad’s the one that stayed.” 

Alex scoffs. “My dad was a piece of shit.” 

Michael tilts his head and opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. 

“What?” Alex wants to hear whatever it is. He needs someone to help him understand. To make sense of this push and pull he’s feeling in his heart that’s tearing him in two. 

“I had a harder time forgiving Max and Isobel for something they couldn't control than I did the people who abused me growing up,” Michael explains. “When you know who your enemies are, you don’t expect anything more from them than hate. But when the people that you trust hurt you, it’s different. Max and Isobel came out of those pods with me. It was supposed to be the three of us, and then it wasn’t. I was left alone for years. And even when I got back to Roswell, they always had this bond that I couldn’t touch. I never really forgave them for that until this year.” 

Alex turns around in Michael’s arms so that they are both sitting face to face. “How did you do it?” 

Michael sighs deeply and looks away for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before looking back. “I guess once I learned to love myself, it was easier to accept that other people actually loved me. And once I believed in that love, forgiveness came pretty easily.” 

“I’m proud of you,” Alex tells him. 

Michael blushes and shrugs it off. “Thanks, Dad.” 

Alex groans. “Please don’t call me Dad while we’re naked in bed together.” 

“No?” Michael teases, pulling on him until they are both lying down. 

“God no,” he says, disgusted. “My daddy issues are not getting worked out in this bed.” 

Michael laughs loudly and Alex relaxes into the moment. This is all he wants for the rest of his life. 

Once Michael settles down, he rolls over until he is laying on his stomach and can rest his head against Alex’s shoulder. 

“Can we go back to sleep now?” Michael asks. 

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing his back softly. “One minute.” 

He reaches out with his free hand, stretching for his phone. It takes him a minute with their position, but he manages to get a hold of it. He turns it on and before he can put too much thought into his actions, he accepts the friend request that his mom sent him years ago. He’s not entirely there yet, but it feels like a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love <3


	6. June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex finally find peace through forgiving his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This chapter was difficult to write and I struggled to find the right balance. Hopefully you all will enjoy the finished product. I have changed this fic's status to be a verse. I'm planning on writing a fic surrounding the Alighting, set in this verse. But I'm also open to prompts. If you've got 'em, put them in the comments or reach out to me on Tumblr (adiwriting). 
> 
> SPECIAL thanks to youdrathersleepalone for the assist when my writer's block was getting the best of me!

Alex sits at the kitchen chair he’d moved into their bedroom and just stares at Michael, watching his chest rise and fall, thanking whatever cosmic gods are out there that he’s here and alive. 

The last three days have been absolute hell, and Alex can say this confidently, because he’s been to war. He hadn’t thought there was anything worse than blindly following an order only to look up and realize the entire world was on fire as people were screaming out in pain all around him. But the Alighting has taught Alex that there is a whole new level of fear and pain. One entirely worse than laying on the side of the road after an IED attack, praying for salvation — either by death or medevac. But this had been different. 

Watching Michael, Max, and Isobel board a spaceship had been awful, but manageable. Afterwards though? Once Michael stepped back off that ship and into his arms? There’d been barely a moment of utter bliss before the entire world crumbled around them. Alex cannot remember ever being more terrified in his life. 

Michael’s going to recover. 

Kyle has promised him as much. Max is stuck in a similar state, and so there’s no magic handprint to save the day. Kyle had been forced to do what he could. Alex has been around enough field medics in his time to have seen some shit. But what Kyle did? The back alley emergency surgery in which Kyle had had his hands inside Michael’s chest cavity while Alex had been forced to assist? That’s not something Alex can ever recover from. 

So he sits. And he watches. And he counts his lucky stars with each rise and fall of Michael’s chest because this isn’t how this story was supposed to end. When Alex found out that he was in love with an alien, their story was always meant to end with, ‘and then he got on his spaceship and flew off into the stars.’ They were never supposed to have an act two. And yet, Michael had stepped off that spaceship. He’d been offered a ride home and decided that Alex was the only home he’d ever need. 

And fuck would it be a hell of a lot more romantic if it hadn’t ended with Michael bleeding out in his arms. If it hadn’t ended with Kyle’s hands inside of Michael’s chest and Alex realizing just how much his own heart is linked to Michael. Alex hadn’t needed the iridescent handprint on his hip to know what death feels like. He’d died the moment Michael’s heart stopped beating. 

And he’s not sure he’s taken a real breath since. 

“You really should try and sleep,” Flint says from the doorway. 

“I don’t know how,” he admits. 

“Figured,” Flint says, stepping into the room. “So I made you this.” 

He hands him a cup of coffee and Alex takes it greedily. He may not be ready to look away from Michael and he’s actively avoiding dreams that are bound to be a constant replay of the nightmarish last 3 days…. But that doesn’t mean he’s not getting tired. Caffeine will help keep him awake. 

“You should at least take off your leg,” Flint tells him sternly. 

Alex looks down and is surprised to see that he’s still wearing it. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d taken it off. Has it been days? That can’t be true. 

Flint rolls his eyes at him and kneels down to help Alex take off the prosthesis. The moment Flint touches it, Alex gasps in pain. He grits his teeth as Flint removes first the prosthesis, then the liner. 

“Jesus, Alex,” he says. When Alex looks down, he curses. His skin is raw and heavily inflamed. 

Alex doesn’t say anything. What would he say? That he’s been too consumed the last few days with keeping everyone alive and holding back both the Air Force and the murderous dictator who caused the aliens to flee their own planet in the first place? What is the point? Flint was right by him for most of what happened. He saw it all go down. 

Flint stands up and places a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. 

“He’s here. It’s over,” Flint says. “You can relax.” 

Alex isn’t sure what it is about Flint’s words that do it for him, but suddenly he’s sucking in a huge breath of air like he’s doing it for the first time and then he’s crying. Flint pulls him in for a hug and doesn’t let go. 

“It’s over,” Flint assures him repeatedly as Alex continues to cry. 

Alex doesn’t know how long he sits there falling apart, but it feels like one moment he was breaking down in Flint’s arms and the next moment Flint’s sitting in a chair next to him, passed out in a position he’s sure to regret in the morning. His therapist would remind him that these moments of lost time are a stress response and symptoms of his complex PTSD. She’d remind him to take his meds. 

She’d probably be right. 

Alex looks back over at Flint, who’s snoring loudly. It’s strange. Of all the people Alex trusted to be with him while he sits vigil, Flint wouldn’t have been at the top of his list. Then again, Flint is a different man than he once was. Or maybe he’s the same man he always was but Alex understands him better now. They understand each other better now. 

Either way, between Michael getting off that ship and Flint sleeping uncomfortably next to him, Alex can’t help but feel like his faith in people is finally being rewarded. 

He’s not sure what makes him do it. And in the morning he’ll blame the haze of going an extended period without sleep. But Alex finds himself pulling out his phone and pulling up his mom’s contact information. 

_Alex (12:42am): Are you up?_

He’s surprised to see that she responds almost immediately. Even with the one-hour time difference, it’s still late. 

_Mom (12:43am): Is everything okay?_

What a loaded question. Things are both better than they’ve ever been and absolutely miserable. Is that what okay means? Having two competing contradictory feelings inside of you that even out to a standard ‘okay’? 

Alex doesn’t bother trying to come up with an adequate response. He presses the call button instead. 

She picks up the phone within the first ring and sounds worried. “Are you alright?”

He’s not. He’s really, really not. 

“Alex…” 

“Something happened,” he says, finding his voice shaky. “I’m okay… but…”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. He’s not even sure why he reached out to her, except that it had been like a reflex. His body remembering what it feels like to have a parent hold him when he cries. Some distant memory of love and caring. It’s a memory he can hardly recall. More of a fantasy he’s grown out of really. 

At least, he’d thought he’d grown out of it. 

“What is it baby?” she asks. 

“I needed a mom,” he says without thinking about his words and framing them in a way that keeps him from having to be vulnerable with her. 

Another thing he’ll blame on the lack of sleep. 

Her surprised gasp and following, “Oh Sweetheart,” are what settles it for him. 

Defenses are stupid. They are built for war and he’s so fucking sick of the endless battle. There is no good and evil in war. Only victors and their victims. At some point, he’s got to set his weapons down and trust that peace is possible. 

“Do you think, maybe, we could schedule that visit you keep talking about?” he asks. The moment he does, he wonders what had taken him so long. For years, it felt like the biggest deal in the world. Now, it seems stupid. 

Hasn’t he learned anything this year about pushing people away? 

“Absolutely,” she says, the words are gentle against his heart and allow him to feel at ease for the first time in days. “I’ll look at flights first thing in the morning.” 

“Thank you.” 

****

“Ugh, how did this place get so disgusting?” Alex asks as he wipes off the stove and the paper towel comes back a gross yellow. Just how thick is the layer of grease? 

“Don’t blame me, you know I prefer the grill to the stove,” Flint says from his spot in the living room, where he’s windexing all of the windows. 

“When was the last time we cleaned?” he asks, trying to think back that far. It’s been awhile. Since before all of the Alighting drama started at least. 

Flint shrugs. 

“Yeah, sorry, that’s my bad,” Michael says, coming out of the bedroom with his hands full of dirty clothes. 

Alex moves to help him, but Michael steps out of his reach. “I’ve got it.” 

Alex leans against the door separating the kitchen from the mud room and crosses his arms, watching Michael start a load of laundry. “I was going to do that for you.” 

Michael gives him a confused smile. “It’s my laundry.” 

Alex looks over him with a critical eye, searching for any signs of lingering exhaustion. Kyle had told Alex to make sure that Michael takes it easy. He’s still recovering from the surgery, along with his other injuries. 

“Alex,” Michael says firmly. He comes to stand in his space and places his hands on Alex’s hips. He seems steady, but then, Alex still worries. He’s not sure if he’ll be free of the image of Michael bleeding out. “You don’t have to worry about me.” 

“Being concerned for your well being is my job,” he argues. “That’s what being in a relationship means.” 

“And I let you play doctor for the last two weeks—” 

“Gross,” Flint comments as he walks past them on the way to the garbage can. 

Michael flips him off playfully, but keeps going otherwise, “It’s time to get back to normal.” 

Michael kisses him and steps away, effectively trying to end the conversation, but Alex can’t let it go just yet. 

“I don’t want you to overexert yourself.” 

“I promise you, I’m fine,” Michael says. “I’m more worried about you.” 

“Me?” 

Michael gives him a look that has him shuffling nervously. “Are we doing this again?” he asks. It’s loving but Alex can hear the annoyance beneath. 

He sighs, relenting. Michael knows him too well to pretend and Alex is finding that he actually likes talking to Michael about things. “I think I’m okay.” 

“Yeah?” He stares at Alex carefully, looking for any sign that he’s lying. 

“Yeah,” he says, finding that he actually believes it. “I’m nervous to see her, but okay. It helps that Flint is going to be here, too. So all of her attention won’t be on me.” 

“Is that why you’re neurotically cleaning the house like some crazy Stepford Wife?” he teases. 

“It’s normal to clean the house for guests, Guerin,” Flint tells him, bringing the broom out from the hall closet. 

“Is it?” 

Alex has to smile at that. Michael has never once bothered to pick up or attempt to make his place spotless for others. As a frequent guest of Michael’s over the years, he can testify to this. Then again, Michael isn’t dirty. He can be messy, and leaves his work all over the place, but he’s rarely actually dirty. The fact that the kitchen isn’t spotless already is really only due to the fact that Michael has been recovering. 

“Did you used to clean the house for me? Before I moved in?” Michael asks. 

“One, I’ve always kept a clean house, and two, I never thought of you as a guest. So it’s not a fair question,” Alex explains. 

Pretty much from the day they got back together, Michael had moved around the place like it was his own. Like he belonged. Which always made Alex incredibly happy, because to him, Michael has always been family. He grabs him by the belt loops and pulls him in for a kiss that Michael happily returns. 

“I’ll finish throwing my stuff in the wash and then come help with the kitchen,” Michael promises. “Pretty sure most of the mess is mine. Sorry.” 

Alex shakes his head. “You haven’t been in shape to really clean.” 

The truth is, Alex could have cleaned up as well, but he’s been more focused on spending as much time as possible with Michael. The fear of him being taken away has caused serious separation anxiety for Alex that he’s only just starting to deal with. The Alighting had done way more damage than just physical.

“Nah, but I’m good now,” Michael says. “Or at least, better.” 

“Your powers come back yet?” Flint asks. 

Alex rolls his eyes at his nosey brother, but has to appreciate the way in which Flint’s questioning of Michael feels way less like an interrogation than it used it. That’s something good that came out of all of this, at least. 

Michael shakes his head. 

“Well I’m sure it’s a matter of time,” Flint says. “All the data we have on your species implies that aspect of your biology is regenerative.” 

“Max said he got a lightbulb to flicker yesterday, so…” Michael shrugs, like it’s not a big deal that all three of them have been stripped of their powers. 

Alex knows that it has to affect Michael much deeper than he’s letting on. It makes him feel guilty. Alex is the reason that Michael stayed, and ultimately, the reason that the entire situation had gone south. 

“Hey,” Michael says quietly enough so that Flint can’t eavesdrop from his spot in the living room. “None of that. I knew what I was giving up. I’m where I want to be.” 

Alex nods, and allows himself to believe it. After all, Michael is the one that stepped off the spaceship first, before Isobel or Max had thought to follow. Michael chose this. Chose him. 

“Let’s get this place spotless for your mom.” 

****

Alex stands at security waiting for his mom to step through. He’s a mess of conflicting emotions that has him feeling like he might vomit. Despite Michael’s best attempts, Alex had refused to eat this morning. Just the thought of food had made him nauseous. He may have been the one to ask his mom to come, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t freaking out about seeing her again. 

He catches sight of her before she sees him and he uses that moment to pull himself together. He calls on all of his training to appear calm, forcing his hands to remain at his sides and his feet to remain still. No matter how this visit goes, it won’t change anything. Alex is still his own person, whole and complete, and nobody can take that from him. He has two brothers who support him fully and a boyfriend that loves him unconditionally. If this goes bad, it won’t break him. But if it goes good… 

Well the possibility is something worth fighting for, isn’t it? 

“Alex?” she says, once she catches sight of him. She drops her bags and freezes in her spot, eyes raking over him as her mouth open and closes, clearly struggling for words. 

“Hey, Mom,” he says, kindly, opening his arms. She falls immediately into them. If he can feel his shirt getting wet with her tears, he is too much of a gentleman to say anything.

She’s small. Much smaller than he remembers, but then, he’d only been eight when she left. It’s easier to relax when his brain is able to stop registering her as a threat. 

They stand there, holding each other for far longer than is probably normal, but Alex doesn’t pull away. He needs this moment as much as she does. When she finally does take a step back, she reaches out to touch his face but stops herself before she actually does. 

“You got so tall,” she says with a shaky laugh. 

Alex laughs through his tears. 

“Let’s go get your bags,” he says, picking up her carry on for her and guiding her towards baggage claim. 

“Where’s Flint?” she asks, trying to sound casual but failing. Alex can sympathize with the anxiety in her voice and while he may have been petty in the past and enjoyed her discomfort around him, he finds he can't manage it now. 

“He’s at work. He’ll be home by the time we get there.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he promises her. “He tried to put in a request, but they denied him. The Army is still punishing him.” 

His mom nods. “I guess we should be grateful that’s all they are doing.” 

“Right.” 

Alex can’t argue with that. The fact that Flint isn’t in a military prison is a miracle. And while they’d expected him to be dishonorably discharged, the Army had decided that his knowledge of weapons was valuable enough and his work with aliens was dangerous enough that he was less of a threat under their control. Alex would rather Flint have been discharged and gone to work on the rez with Greg, but Flint is happy to still serve so Alex has accepted that it’s not his choice to make. Besides, it means that Flint continues to live with them, and while Alex likes to complain about it constantly, he secretly loves having his brother around daily. 

“Gregory said you told him not to come?” she asks. 

“We talked about it,” Alex says. “And with you flying into El Paso, the drive was going to be insane. Besides… we don’t need a mediator, do we?” 

His mom smiles. “No, I guess we don’t.” 

“He’ll be at the house in time for dinner tonight,” Alex says. “And he said he’d bring Isobel.” 

They grab her bag from the carousel and Alex pulls out his phone to text Michael and let him know they are on their way out. Michael’s been circling the airport in Alex’s car for the past forty minutes. 

“So is this the same boy from Christmas?” his mom asks once Alex sees their car and waves Michael down. 

“No,” he says, grabbing her bags. “But it’s good. Better, actually.” 

Michael steps out of the car and pops the trunk, helping Alex get the bags in. His mom and he debate for a solid minute over who is going to sit in front before Alex ends up climbing in the front seat and his mom in the back. As soon as he’s sitting, Michael reaches over for his hand and gives him a look, silently asking if he’s okay. 

Alex smiles and squeezes his hand to let him know that he’s good. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Chee,” Michael says, looking over his shoulder at his mom, but not dropping Alex’s hand. “I’m Michael.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Michael,” she says. “And you can call me Mindy.” 

Michael turns back around and puts the car in drive, heading back towards the interstate. “How was your flight?”

Alex has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at how incredibly weird but cute it is to see Michael attempting small talk. Michael hates small talk and that’s what makes it so damn sweet. 

“It was good,” she says. “Uneventful.” 

“Are you hungry? Alex and I were talking about some taco place that he loves that’s on the way.” 

“Yeah, I could eat,” she says. “Whatever you boys want, I’m sure is good.” 

Alex looks at her in the rearview mirror and catches the way she’s trying not to smile as she looks out the window. As the conversation dies down, Alex turns up the volume of the radio and can’t help but smile at Michael. Alex knows that he has to be tired. Michael has barely left the house since the Alighting. They’d gone for a walk together yesterday and that alone had caused Michael to get winded. So he knows that this trip to El Paso to pick up his mom from the airport is a lot, but Michael insisted on coming and has been amazing and supportive. He can see the telltale signs of exhaustion on his face, but Michael hasn’t said a word. 

Alex wants to complain about Michael overexerting himself, but he can’t. Not today. Today he’s just relieved to have the familiar support beside him. This is what they’d both fought so hard to have, right? The chance to be together and be able to do stupid normal shit like pick a parent up from the airport. 

“What?” Michael asks once he catches Alex watching him. He just shakes his head and pulls the hand that Michael has in his up to his face to place a kiss on the back of it. Michael squeezes his hand, knowingly, before turning his attention back to his mom. 

“Greg said you live in San Diego?” Michael asks, making conversation on Alex’s behalf, and for that Alex is grateful. 

“Oceanside,” Mindy says. “My brother is stationed at Camp Pendleton and I help take care of his kids.” 

“I’ve always wanted to see the ocean,” Michael says, causing Alex to do a double take. He’d never told Alex that before.

“Well you boys are always welcome.”

Michael looks over at Alex, gauging his interest. 

“Let’s just focus on this trip before we start planning any more,” Alex says, uncomfortably. He’s ready to see his mom, but he still needs to take things slow. 

“Of course,” his mom says, sounding far too understanding, which makes Alex feel a bit guilty, but he doesn’t change his stance. His therapist had told him that it’s important to set his boundaries and not to allow himself to feel bad for them. 

****

“So how did the two of you meet?” his mom asks as they sit down at a picnic table outside of the small taco stand off the interstate. 

“High school,” Alex answers, slowly taking a more active role in the conversation as he grows more comfortable. 

“I stole his guitar to get him to notice me,” Michael says, causing his mom to laugh. 

Alex rolls his eyes. “You did not.” 

“I most certainly did,” he defends himself. “I knew that was your guitar.”

“You didn’t even know that you liked boys,” Alex argues. “You did not take that guitar to… what? Flirt? That’s not what happened.” 

“If you say so,” Michael shrugs and starts eating, but now Alex is too distracted. 

“Michael?” 

Michael sets his food back down and turns to face him, as if to say, ‘What?’ 

“That night I tried to kiss you, you turned away from me. You did _not_ know you liked boys.” 

“I had been stealing your guitar for weeks before you noticed,” Michael says, clearly amused. Alex can only sputter at the revelation. “I knew that I was bi long before you came into my orbit. I was confused about my feelings, but that had nothing to do with the fact that you were a boy. I turned away from you that night because I was terrified of kissing somebody I actually liked.” 

Michael turns back to his taco as if he hasn’t just dropped a massive truth bomb on Alex. 

“I’m still the first boy you ever kissed though, right?” Alex asks. 

Michael knocks his shoulder with Alex’s affectionately and says, “And hopefully the last.” 

Alex has so many questions, like who Michael’s first boy crush was on and when exactly he realized he was bisexual, but he won’t ask any of them now. 

Still, the conversation has caused the remaining tension to disappear and Alex suspects that had been exactly Michael’s point. Michael is a hell of a lot smarter than people give him credit for, and not just when it comes to engineering and mathematics. 

“You two are very cute together,” his mom interrupts. 

“Thank you,” Michael says without an ounce of embarrassment while Alex can only blush. 

Despite her pro-LGBTQIA posts on Facebook, there’s still an underlying fear that Alex has of rejection. But he’s starting to learn that so much of the homophobia his dad put on him when he was young, Alex now projects onto others. It’s easy to assume that everyone will always hate him and his relationship when, growing up, that’s all he ever experienced. However, he’s working on acceptance and allowing others to accept him. It’s nice to see his mom is clearly supportive of Michael. 

They resume eating their meals, exchanging pleasantries about the weather and discussing things that his mom wants to see while she’s in Roswell for the week. When they are done, Michael collects their trash and informs them that he’s going to go search for a bathroom before they hit the road again. 

“He’s sweet,” his mom says. 

Alex nods. “Yeah, he’s great.” 

She reaches out to place her hand on his, tentatively. He tenses momentarily, but once he relaxes into the touch, she does as well. 

“I’m happy for you,” she says. “It’s not easy to let yourself be loved when you experienced the kind of trauma that we have.” 

Alex bites the inside of his cheek as those conflicting emotions inside of him make him nauseous. He’d assumed that they would at least make it til after dinner before the conversation veered into emotional territory, but perhaps this is better. Perhaps it’s better for them to get this out of their systems while they are alone. 

“I know I should have called you after Christmas,” he tells her. 

She shakes her head. “You needed time.” 

He had needed time. He’s not sure that six months is really an excusable timeline, but he’s glad to see that she’s being understanding about the whole thing. 

“I didn’t know that he hurt you, too,” he says. “He never told us why you left.” 

“No, I didn’t expect that he would,” she says, sadly. “I tried to keep in touch with you boys, but your father always made it so difficult and it just hurt so much to keep trying and get nowhere. Eventually, I had to figure out how to live without you boys. But I never forgot about you.” 

The words hit him hard as he can relate. Alex knows how devastating it is to have hope, only for it to lead nowhere. Isn’t that why he eventually stopped coming home to Michael whenever he was on leave? Isn’t that why they went three years without talking before they hooked up again at the reunion?

It’s not an excuse. She’s his mom and no matter what, she should have kept fighting for him, but it’s understandable. 

“I used to think that if you had just tried harder, that maybe you could have won custody and so I blamed you for that,” he admits. “But now that I’m older and have a more accurate view of the world, I can see how it was always a losing battle.” 

“The system doesn’t typically rule against a white male with a military background. Not when it would have to recognize an indigenous woman to do so,” his mom says, sadly. 

“No,” Alex agrees. “But I’m working on this thing in therapy where I try to find something good in every bad memory.”

“Oh?” she asks, hesitantly. 

“It took me awhile to figure out what was good about you leaving. And I’m still not sure I’ve found something good about you having left, apart from why it was good for _you_.” 

His mom looks down at the table guilty and he turns his hand over so that he can hold her hand properly, giving it a squeeze. She looks back up at him. 

“If you had won custody, we would have moved away. And I never would have met Michael,” Alex says with a warm smile. “So the way I see it, staying was worth it in the end.” 

“You love him that much?” she asks. He listens for the underlying judgement that he’s used to hearing from so many, but hears none of it. 

He smiles. “I do.” 

“I shouldn’t have stopped trying,” his mom admits. “Even with everything your father did to push me away. I should have fought more. I should’ve shown up.” 

“You’re showing up now,” he says, tentatively, terrified to put that truth out into the ether. Because it voices his hope and with hope comes expectation. And with expectation, Alex has almost always found crushing heartbreak. But with Michael, he’s found the exception to the rule. And again with Flint. So Alex is starting to see the reward in the risk. 

She places her other hand on top of their joined ones. 

“I am so happy that you called me that night,” she says. “I know it took a lot of courage for you to do that. And I want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that I’m worthy of you.” 

Alex ducks his head so that she doesn’t see how emotional it makes him to hear that. He catches sight of Michael out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the taco stand with his hands in his pockets. It’s clear that he’s staying back to give the two of them time. His mom glances over her shoulder and sees Michael as well. She looks back at Alex with a knowing smile. 

“He’s a good kid.” 

“The best.” 

****

“Why the fuck do you have a fire going in the middle of June?” Greg asks, walking out onto the patio after helping Isobel bring all their bags inside. Alex had told her that she didn’t need to bring anything, that he would cover dinner. But for all that Isobel has changed over the last two years, she’s still pretty extra and turns everything into an event. Alex isn’t complaining. Or at least, he stopped complaining the moment that she told him she’d made her famous buffalo dip. 

“Flint gets cold at night,” Alex teases and Greg laughs. 

“Fuck you both,” Flint says, throwing a pillow at Alex. 

Alex goes to throw the pillow back but Greg catches it out of the air and gives them both a stern look. “Not over an open fire you idiots.” 

“Where’s your wife?” Flint turns to ask Greg. 

“Not my wife,” Greg says, rolling his eyes. “But Iz and Michael are both inside. Mom is showing them baby photos, so there’s that.” 

Alex groans. “Is that really fair? It’s not like we can ever see baby pictures of them.” 

“Whatever, I was a cute baby,” Greg teases and Alex grumbles. It’s not that he was a hideous child, but he certainly took a solid year and a half before he stopped looking awkward and started looking cute. 

“Does that ever get weird?” Flint asks. “Thinking about the fact that you’re both sleeping with literal pod people?” 

“No. It gets hot,” Greg says with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. 

“Literally,” Alex says. “Michael is like a fucking furnace. We can’t sleep with blankets. Or clothes.” 

Flint groans. “I hear enough of your sex life thanks to thin walls. Can we not talk about you perverts sleeping naked?” 

“Isobel isn’t any better,” Greg tells him, ignoring Flint. “But it’s worse because she’s always cold, so she doesn’t like turning on the AC.” 

“Oh my god.” Alex knows just how brutal that is. Alex has spent several nights with Michael without the luxury of an air conditioner thanks to the airstream. But Michael doesn’t get cold, so thankfully they don’t have arguments over running the air. 

“So…” Greg asks them. 

“So?” Flint repeats, confused. 

“How are you both doing?” 

Alex looks to Flint to answer first. 

“I don’t know. It’s weird.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Greg says. “Took me awhile before it stopped being weird, too.” 

“You never told us what made you reach out to her in the first place,” Alex says. 

Greg shrugs. “When I decided not to reenlist, Dad was pissed.” 

Alex snorts. That’s probably the understatement of the century. For a solid week since Greg announced his plans, Alex was no longer the black sheep of the family. Of course, that only lasted as long as it took his dad to hear about Michael sending him a letter to his APO, but it had been a good week. 

“I knew I couldn’t come home,” Greg continues. “War had fucking destroyed me and all Dad would have done was lecture me about needing to man up or some shit. I wasn’t ready for that. So I looked up Mom and showed up at her door one day.” 

Alex glanced over at Flint. If the way that he is leaning forward is any indication, he’s as interested in this story as Alex is. 

“She and Uncle Ash took me in and helped me get into school,” Greg says. “They encouraged me to get my teaching license.” 

“You never told me that,” Flint says. 

Alex hadn’t known all of the details either. He’d heard that Greg had been staying in California, but he’d never really stopped to think about who his brother was with. 

Greg shrugs. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” 

“Nah.” Flint shakes his head and Greg gives him a disbelieving look. “Well maybe. But you’re my brother. I would have forgiven you.” 

“Like you forgave Alex?” Greg asks. 

Alex holds his hands up in defense. He has no interest in getting back into this. Especially without their therapist here to keep things civil. Flint and he are just starting to get to a good place. 

“I was an ass,” Flint says sincerely. 

It shocks Alex enough to laugh. “Yeah.” 

Flint has always been an ass to him, but he never expected him to say so. 

“Dr. Campbell calls it misplaced blame,” Flint explains. 

Alex knows all about that. 

“It’s water under the bridge,” Alex tells him. “I think you more than proved yourself last month.” 

They all sigh and Alex can tell that their minds have all drifted back to the Alighting the same way Alex’s has. 

“What are we gossiping about out here?” Isobel asks, coming out with a tray full of drinks. 

“Oh thank god,” Flint says, standing up to grab one of the bottles from her. 

Michael and his mom come out, each carrying various snacks and appetizers. Isobel starts to pass out drinks to everyone. Alex turns her down. He doesn’t like drinking in front of Michael, even though Michael has assured him that it’s okay. Flint takes his beer for him, causing Alex to roll his eyes. 

Isobel takes a seat in Greg’s lap and Michael grabs his own chair across the fire, leaving the seat next to Alex open for his mom. 

“Why did we make a fire in the middle of June?” Michael asks, causing the boys to all laugh. 

****

“What’s this?” Alex says, stepping into the kitchen with a growing smile. There are pots and pans out and when he peeks into the other room, he notices that the dining room table is already set. 

“I thought I would cook you boys breakfast as a thank you for letting me stay here,” his mom says, stirring the gravy that she’s cooking. “You didn’t have to give up your bedroom.” 

Alex shrugs as he steals a piece of bacon from the platter. “Michael and I have spent many nights in that airstream together. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Please tell me there’s coffee,” Michael stumbles into the kitchen looking half asleep and wearing only a pair of low slung sweatpants. 

His mom reaches up to grab a mug from the cabinet and pours him a cup. 

“You’re amazing,” Michael says before shuffling back off towards the bathroom. 

His mom chuckles to herself and Alex explains, “He’s a lot more human after his morning shower.” 

“And you?” his mom asks, looking over where he’s already up and dressed. “I don’t remember you ever being a morning person.” 

He’s not. Not really. Not if he doesn’t have to be. Years in the Air Force haven’t changed that. But he doesn’t feel right admitting that he’s not comfortable strolling around the house in his pajamas and crutches with her here. It would be hurtful and rude, and he’s trying hard not to be either of those things. She’s making a real effort and he is too. 

“There’s not really any sleeping in in the military,” Alex says instead. 

As if to emphasize his point, Flint comes into the kitchen fully dressed in his fatigues. “Are you cooking biscuits and gravy?” 

“Are you going to have time to eat with us?” his mom asks, hopeful. 

“I always have time for food,” Flint says with a laugh. “You know this was my favorite meal as a kid.” 

“I know,” she says. “I remember.” 

“Dad didn’t believe in carbs for breakfast,” Flint says with a roll of his eyes. Alex is surprised. Flint may be coming around on Alex and has agreed to try with their mom, but for the most part Flint still has a lot of affection for their dad. 

“Manes men eat protein,” Alex adds, remembering how he used to go to the Crashdown before school to sneak Arturo’s churro pancakes. 

“Well this Manes is gonna eat his weight in biscuits,” Flint says with a laugh. 

His mom hands both of them platters of food and they bring it over to the table for her. Alex goes back into the kitchen and grabs the orange juice and water pitchers from the fridge while Flint grabs enough glasses for everyone. By the time the table is set and they are sitting down for breakfast, Michael comes back in, dressed and much more alert. 

“Dang,” Michael says, looking over the spread. “You’re making me look bad, Mindy. I’m gonna have to up my game.” 

“Oh?” 

“Michael usually cooks me breakfast in the morning,” Alex explains. 

“Like a good little wife,” Flint adds. 

Michael flips him off while Alex informs him that he’s being homophobic. 

“I’m not,” Flint complains, causing Alex to roll his eyes. There’s really only so much progress they should expect from him in the few months he’s been here. 

“Your granddad always used to say that the best way to show someone your heart is by filling their stomach,” his mom says. 

“I think I remember him saying that, actually,” Alex says, surprised. There’s not a lot of his grandparents that he’s been able to hold onto, but that’s one of them. 

“You boys used to love watching him weave stories,” she says. 

“Yeah, I remember,” Flint says. 

“You know he left you his loom,” she says, carefully, like she’s more than aware of the landmine she’s stepping in. 

Flint just shrugs, but Alex catches how his body grows tense. 

“I see,” she says, sadly. “Well your uncle has it. If ever you want it.” 

“Will you tell us one of the old stories?” Alex asks. It’s been so long since he’s heard any of the tales he used to be told as a kid. Sure, he’s been back to the rez to visit Greg, but he still feels so disconnected from much of it. 

His mom tells them about the Song of the Horses, and Alex is pleased to see that Michael and Flint are just as invested in the story as he is. 

Once she’s done, Flint has to leave for work, and Alex and Michael take over cleanup duty, giving his mom strict orders not to help. After all, she’d put all the work into cooking. 

“At the risk of sounding like an uncultured asshole, what’s a loom?” Michael asks, standing at the sink and washing dishes. 

“It’s a device you use to weave fabrics and tapestries,” he explains, taking a clean pot from Michael and drying it off. 

“And why doesn’t Flint want it?” 

“Because he stopped enjoying weaving stories when my mom left us.” 

“Gotcha.” Michael grabs the detergent out from under the sink and gets the dishwasher set to run. “Well it’s a shame. Because he could use a hobby.” 

Alex snorts. “I think he considers driving us crazy to be his hobby.” 

“Yeah, that’s why we need to find him a new one,” Michael says. He hands Alex the Clorox wipes to clean the counters before turning to take out the garbage. 

When he returns, he’s got a curious look on his face. “I liked that story your mom told us.” 

Alex nods. “Yeah, it was one of my favorites growing up.” 

“I don’t know hardly anything about Navajo culture,” he admits. “I feel like I should know more.” 

Alex is sad to admit, he doesn’t know nearly enough either. 

****

Alex comes home from PT to Michael and his mom, both looking at something on Alex’s laptop with an open notebook between them. The look on Michael’s face is one that Alex knows well — it’s hesitantly hopeful. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, hanging his keys on the hook and stepping into the living room completely.

“It’s nothing,” Michael says, closing the laptop and standing up quickly. Not at all suspicious. 

His mom stands up and pats Michael’s arm, giving him an encouraging look that immediately puts Alex on the defensive.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” she says, stepping out onto the patio. 

“What’s going on?” he repeats himself, carefully, despite the fact that there’s a rage boiling up inside of him. 

Michael scratches at the back of his neck and shuffles on his feet. “I uh… I guess it’s not a big deal.” 

“What’s not a big deal?” he asks, nerves increasing. Michael’s behavior isn’t helping the situation. 

“Your mom and I were talking and the topic of school came up,” he says, acting nonchalant. “She told me she’d help me figure it out.” 

“She told you she’d help,” he says with a bitter laugh. 

He’s offered to help Michael figure out how to go back to school. He always turns Alex down. He says he isn’t interested. It isn’t the right time. There’s always a million excuses. Michael told him to stop pushing. 

Why is his mom any different? Why does _she_ get trusted with this? 

“Alex—” 

“No, it’s fine,” Alex cuts him off. “It’s good. I’m proud of you.” 

He moves towards the bedroom to change out of his sweaty clothes. Michael follows him. 

“It doesn’t sound fine.” 

Alex throws his shirt into the laundry basket with far more force than is necessary, but he’s mad, dammit. He moves to pull out another shirt from the closet, but decides against it. He needs a shower first so he can clean off and calm down. He moves into the master bathroom, but Michael just follows him there, too. 

“Why did you ask her?” He turns around to face Michael. 

“I didn’t ask her, she offered,” he explains, looking resigned. Like he knew this was going to be a fight. 

Which, if he knew it was going to be an issue, why did he do it? 

“Okay,” he says, carefully reigning in his temper. “Well why, when _she_ offered, did you say yes?” 

“I don’t know.” Michael shuffles awkwardly. 

“Bullshit.” 

Michael sighs deeply. He sits up on the vanity and gestures towards the chair they keep in the bathroom for Alex. Alex debates for a minute before taking a seat. 

“Things are different now,” Michael says. 

Alex can’t tell what that’s supposed to mean, or if Michael is saying that like it’s a bad thing. 

“Yeah,” he agrees after Michael doesn’t say anything more, hoping it will get him to keep talking. 

“Before, it seemed stupid to go to school when I couldn’t leave Roswell,” Michael explains. “And I had all my personal research and I wasn’t going to learn about spaceships and alien technology in school.” 

Alex’s body goes from red hot rage to stone cold in a single breath. “And now you can leave Roswell,” he says, with a nod of his head, trying but failing to comprehend the words. 

“What? No,” Michael jumps off the counter and moves to stand in front of Alex. “No! That’s not it. What are you even talking about?” He pushes his knees between his thighs to move even closer and grabs his face with his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. I stayed for you.” 

Alex closes his eyes and lets those words sink in, allowing himself to realize that he’d jumped to conclusions. It’s a bad habit of his. One he promised Michael he would try to work on. But clearly the presence of his mom the last few days has brought up a lot of old feelings.

“It’s stupid to be jealous,” Alex says, admitting what it is that he’s truly feeling over the entire incident. 

Michael doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. He knows Alex, sometimes better than Alex knows himself. Instead, he kisses his forehead and pulls him in for a hug. Alex allows himself to be held for a minute before Michael pulls back. 

“If I tell you that I’ve been jealous, will it make you feel better?” 

Alex is confused. “Jealous of what?” 

“You,” he says honestly. “Flint.” 

“You’re jealous of us?” he asks, trying to understand. 

Michael nods. “I know that your relationship with your mom is shitty, but you’re working on it. And that’s not a chance I’m ever going to get.” 

“Michael—” he’s about to apologize for the millionth time for what happened to Nora, but Michael shakes his head and stops him. 

“When your mom was telling us that horse story, the whole time I just kept thinking that I must have had stories like that told to me as a kid, but I’ll never know them,” he says carefully. “My people must have had legends and myths and all these cultural beliefs, that I won’t know.”

He doesn’t say what they both know to be true. He could have. His great grandfather had killed Michael’s people when they crashed. His grandfather and father had kept his mother in a cage for years. And now Alex is the reason Michael didn’t go home. 

“Hey,” Michael says. “I’m just trying to be honest about my feelings. Don’t go there.” 

“You could have learned those stories if you had stayed on the ship,” he argues. 

“We don’t know that. You saw how they treated us the moment we stepped off the ship, in all likelihood, we wouldn’t have been treated any better if we’d left. And I’m not going to keep defending my decision to stay with you.” 

“You’re right,” he relents. “I’m sorry.” 

“Having your mom here has been nice,” Michael admits. “And I know I’m supposed to be mad at her for what she did to you all as kids, and I am… I just…” 

“You like having a mom around,” Alex finishes for him. It makes sense. And Alex can’t fault him for that. He stands up so that he’s eye level with Michael, and rests his hands on Michael’s hips. “You don’t have to be mad at her just because I am.” 

“Isn’t that how this works?” Michael asks. He’s teasing, but Alex can hear the truth behind it. 

“I’m working on forgiving my mom,” Alex admits. “And I like having her here, too. I can’t promise that I won’t ever get jealous again or be bitter about the things she missed out on growing up, but I won’t fault you for enjoying her company. I get it.” 

Michael rests his forehead against Alex’s and breathes him in deep. 

“I want her to tell us more about the old legends,” he says. “I want us to have stories to tell our children. We have so much bad history, and I want us to have something good to share.” 

Alex closes his eyes at the mention of children. They’ve never talked about it. He’s never heard Michael even mention the idea of starting a family with him, but it doesn’t surprise Alex in the least that Michael has this desire. He pictures Michael with a baby in his arms and finds it’s something he really wants too. 

“I mean, we don’t have to have kids,” Michael says quickly, trying to brush the comment off. “I’ll still need something to tell our nieces and nephews one day since you know that Isobel and Greg are definitely gonna have a white picket fence and 2.5 kids.” 

Alex shuts him up with a kiss. “I want that, too.” 

“Yeah?” Michael asks, hopefully. 

Alex nods. 

Michael moves away and pulls off his shirt. 

“What are you doing?” Alex asks with a laugh, not that he’s complaining. 

“Aren’t we taking a shower?” 

Alex rolls his eyes, but doesn’t correct him and works to take off the remainder of his clothes. 

“So you never answered my original question,” Alex says, once they are both naked and stepping into the shower. 

“Which was?” Michael is clearly distracted. Alex can’t blame him, but before they have sex, he’s still curious. 

Michael’s hands start moving over his chest and Alex is momentarily distracted, but shakes it off. 

“Why did you ask her?” 

Michael sighs and drops his hands to his sides. “You’ve wanted me to stop wasting my life for so long that… I don’t know. I wanted to make sure I was doing this for me.” 

“Michael…” Alex has to pause to try and find the words. “I know it didn’t always seem like it, but I’ve always wanted more for you because I want it _for you.”_

“You didn’t want me to stop being trailer trash so that your dad would have less reason to give you shit?” Michael asks with a knowing look. 

“Okay, that’s partially fair,” he admits. “But you weren’t trailer trash. And that’s not true anymore. I love you and I just want you to do something that makes you happy. And I know you don’t feel fulfilled working on cars.” 

“I don’t,” he admits. “And I want to be able to make more money. I want to be able to support a family and feel like I contribute.” 

Alex smiles. He makes more than enough money in the Air Force to support them both, but he knows that Michael wants to be able to do his part and he supports that. 

“I guess there was less pressure and anxiety when your mom offered,” Michael says with a shrug. “There weren’t any expectations.” 

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” 

“I let myself feel that way,” Michael admits. “I talked to my sponsor about it the last time we fought about school. If I’m being truthful, you haven’t made me feel that way in over a year. I just allowed myself to still carry that pressure to do better for you.”

“Doesn’t your sponsor say that you’re supposed to focus on doing better for _you_?” 

“That’s why I let your mom help me,” Michael admits. 

Alex nods. “I guess that makes sense.” 

He doesn’t love that there are still things between them that cause issues and insecurities, but maybe that’s just the reality of having a relationship with a man he’s been involved with for 12 years. 

“Do you want to help me decide my major? I found two that I’m interested in.” Michael extends the bar of soap to him and turns away. 

“What are the options?” he asks, taking the olive branch that Michael has given him. He starts washing Michael’s back. 

“I found an agricultural engineering program that’s entirely online, which is what I used to want to do,” Michael says. “But there’s this cool sustainability program that I feel like would be awesome, too. It focuses on long term solutions to building a sustainable community, country, and globe, which is interesting to me. But I don’t know. You know me… what should I do?” 

Alex smiles, assuring himself that he really shouldn’t take Michael seeking out his mom for council personally. Michael has come, and continues to come to him, about the things that truly matter. He values Alex and his opinion. But Michael is also always careful to remain his own person, which is something he’s learned through AA. And Alex loves that. He has enjoyed watching Michael learn to love himself. It’s an example that Alex has worked hard to follow. 

“Well I think by the sound of it, you’re clearly more excited about the sustainability one,” Alex answers. 

“Yeah.” 

Michael turns around and takes the soap out of Alex’s hands and begins washing Alex’s body in turn. 

“So much for Max’s theory that you don’t care enough about the world to save it,” Alex teases. 

“It’s our home.” 

****

Alex steps out onto the patio after he’s cleaned up from his shower with Michael… which had lasted a lot longer than anticipated. They’d taken their time discussing Michael’s future then taken even more time fooling around afterwards. 

“I shouldn’t have intervened,” his mom says before he can say anything. 

“No, that’s not true,” he responds, moving to sit down at the chair across from her. “Michael’s never had parents. It’s good for him to have someone in his life. I’m not against the two of you forming a bond.”

“Really?” she asks, doubtful. 

“It’s just hard sometimes,” he admits, reminding himself that he has to be honest with her if they are ever going to repair what’s been broken. “I didn’t have a mom growing up either and I still have a lot of feelings about everything that you missed.” 

“I know,” she says, sad. “You have a right to those feelings.” 

“I’m working on them. And I _do_ want a relationship with you.” 

“I want that too, Sweetheart.” 

Alex reaches out tentatively to grab her hand. “I don’t want to be jealous of Michael whenever he hangs out with you.” 

“I didn’t realize it would make you jealous,” she explains. “He’s important to you, so he’s important to me. I didn’t think.” 

“No, it’s not on you,” he admits. “If I’m jealous of Michael trying to have a relationship with you, then I need to put the effort into rebuilding our relationship.” 

“Isn’t that what I’m doing here?” she asks. 

Alex nods. Rebuilding a relationship with her is the entire point to inviting her out for the week. He glances down at their joined hands and that’s when he notices that she has a journal with her. 

“You write, too?” he asks. 

She nods. “Mostly just songs. But occasionally I’ll journal if my thoughts are too busy to concentrate on a single theme.” 

Alex smiles. It’s the first meaningful thing he’s noticed that his adult self has in common with her. 

“I didn’t know you wrote music.” 

“Well I stopped writing music when your father and I got married. He never cared for it much. It took a few years for me to start again after I left,” she explains. 

“Dad used to tell me that writing music was a waste of time,” Alex says. 

“That sounds familiar,” she says with a bitter laugh. 

“What made you fall in love with him in the first place?” he asks. 

It’s something he’s been wondering ever since he found out about her abuse and the fact that she knew he was homophobic. He has conflicting feelings for his father that stem from their blood relationship, but his mom hadn’t been tied to him like Alex was. She didn’t have to marry him. 

“I honestly don’t know how to answer that question except to say that I was young and naive. Your dad was never perfect by any means, but he always had two different faces. And I fell in love with his charming side. I’d seen some of his ugliness before I married him, but at the time he’d just come back from war. I convinced myself it was part of that. That with enough time at home… with enough love and affection, he would change. It took me a long time to see that war isn’t what changed him.” 

“What do you think did?” he asks, though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. 

The look his mom is giving him, makes him think she knows the truth as well. 

“You called me about what you found in Valenti’s cabin, so I know that you know what your father did,” she says. “I was scared you were going to end up going down that same path and it would destroy you. But I should have known you were a much better soul than your father ever was.” 

Alex doesn’t know how to respond to that. Apparently everyone in the family had been told the family secret except for Greg and Alex. Funny that the two left out ended up being the two most closely connected to the aliens in the end. 

“You know that one of them lived on the reservation,” she tells him. “Isobel looks so much like her. She never spoke to me, but I know she was incredibly kind. I can see that kindness in Michael.” 

“Most people don’t bother looking past the grease and sarcasm,” Alex says. 

“But you did. Just as he looks beyond your defenses. I’m proud of you for not letting your father’s bigoted beliefs keep you from a good thing.” 

“And I’m proud of you for getting out,” Alex says quietly, almost too quietly to hear, but she does. 

“You don’t have to say that. I know that my leaving put all of you boys in a difficult spot.” 

“I was dad’s punching bag for twenty years before I found the courage to stand up to him,” he says, honestly. “I won’t tell you that you should have stayed when I know what you went through. And I can’t keep blaming you for not having the bravery to keep fighting for us when I let Dad keep me from Michael for ten years.” 

She lets go of his hand to wipe the tears from her eyes and he sits up in his chair, allowing the serious moment to pass by them. She pulls her journal to her chest and smiles at him before standing up. 

“I should probably head out. I told Isobel that I would go over to her house and teach her to make kneeldown bread,” she says.

“Do you think Michael and I could join you? He wanted to learn more about our culture.”

Alex neglects to mention that he too wants to learn more about all of the traditions that he’s been ignoring for years, but he doesn’t have to. Clearly his mom can still read him even if it’s been over twenty years since she last cared for him. She pulls him in for a hug. 

“I’m always happy to teach.” 

Alex moves to the door, holding it open for her to step inside. As she does so, he asks, “Do you think you’d ever be comfortable playing me a song you wrote?” 

She smiles at him. “I actually have a few I’ve written for you over the years. I didn’t bring a guitar, though.” 

“You can borrow mine,” Michael informs her, from his spot on the sofa. He’s exactly where Alex had left him last, laying down with Alex’s laptop, filling out his FAFSA. 

Alex grabs his keys from the hook. 

“Where are you going?” Michael asks them, curiously. 

“ _We_ are going to over to Isobel’s,” he tells him. “Mom is going to teach us all to cook kneeldown bread.” 

Michael closes the laptop and stands up, moving to grab his shoes. Despite his confused look, he doesn’t question the fact that he’s joining them. 

“They’re Navajo tamales,” his mom clarifies. 

Michael gives Alex a knowing smile. “I can’t wait.” 

And yeah, things aren’t perfect, yet. But Alex’s heart is at peace for the first time that he can remember. He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!


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